


Latibule

by thelesserneptune



Category: One Direction (Band), Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst, Bottom Louis, Cliche battle between the heart and the mind, Eventual Smut, Fluff, God Harry, Harry Styles Calls Louis Tomlinson Pet Names, Human Louis, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Pining, Riding, Self-Harm, Spanking, Spirited Away AU, Top Harry, also time is an illusion, based on a movie, because that's what I'm about, but really its not a Sad Story™, gross amount of pet names, in case you want to read this anyway but want to avoid them, it's relevant i swear for once it's not only my obsession with them that caused the, it's short but i'm tagging in case someone is bothered by it, its a kink okay, it’s fairly short in chapter 5 and in chapter 7 a bit, pretty sure it counts a bit as depression, so please dont read if its going to affect you in any way, they have some History
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-10-12 14:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelesserneptune/pseuds/thelesserneptune
Summary: Louis had worked in the infamous resort placed in the median point of all worlds for longer than he could remember. He went through everyday with a soul-crushing emptiness filling his mind, going through the same routine over and over again. Despite all the happenings around him, his soul never wavered, his emotions stayed superficial, and nothing took his breath away anymore.Nothing, except the intoxicating smell of lavender and the contemplating green eyes that came along for the ride every now and again. His heart always seemed to wake up full force whenever those pretty lips formed around even prettier, yet empty promises, and he felt the magic sizzle in his bones again only when contact was made between the divine body and his own deceivingly normal one. He hated it for the fact he really didn’t.Or : A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.





	1. Day 1 - part 1

**Author's Note:**

> well hello there, i'm neptune  
this is the fic no one has been asking me for (i hear you demanding part 2 of deflower me, but as Harry said, all comes to those who wait, chill out)  
anyway it's a Spirited Away au _of sorts_, because except for the background of the movie and a few elements here and there, there's no link. which means you can definitely read this without having watched the movie, but if you did (which you should, it's Good) you may catch a few references lying around (though it should be noted that it won't fully respect everything in the canon)  
anyway this is already too long, just go and enjoy this mess with some good ghibli music playing in the background (i personally listen to [ this ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1TKhSr345ErfEHdTBJKTWc?si=eNBamGfbQyerVSAsUu9nWA) until my ears bled while writing it)  
inspired by : the movie Spirited Away (obviously) & the lavender sweater & my obsession with Larry being gods (& all the books I've read for the last two years of French class)

The shrill, ear-piercing alarm hadn’t been changed in centuries. Somehow, no one had grown used to it blaring loudly in the entire building, spilling into the streets to bother unassuming pedestrians. It wasn’t even that useful; the air shifted just slightly and reality seemed lighter enough for people to just _ know_, especially when they had been here for a long time. 

The havoc that followed such a sound was something to behold. Every single being had a task to complete, making for five minutes of running around like decapitated chickens. They didn’t pull the trigger unless someone who demanded special treatment was coming, and there was no way of knowing if it was for the good or the bad reasons until the client reached the threshold. Most thought there was no such thing as good reasons.

And yet, as he was running with cans of dried flowers and honey filters dangling precariously in his arms, Louis could just tell who was coming. Something in the way goosebumps prickled his arms, and the hair on the back of his neck started standing, and his heart skipped a beat or two. The scowl on his face couldn’t entirely be pinned down to having been woken up at such an ungodly hour - _sweet irony_. 

Rearranging his belongings neatly around the bathtub, he then walked to the adjoining room only to straighten the bed once more and make sure no light was somehow getting in the room. It was supposed to be impossible, but he had learnt not to question the realms of possibility a long time ago. He had the unfortunate pleasure of learning he would be stuck to the underground this week, but at least it meant he had no way of working for _ him_. The bane of his existence. A small relief in the bitterness that was working for people who wanted to be left five feet below the Earth’s surface, far from everyone and doused in the most vicious gifts. Louis would take what he could get. 

As the alarm stopped ringing, signalling their client’s upcoming arrival, Louis rushed upstairs, checking every room to see that no one was still lingering. Doctor Simon didn’t take well to missing names on the roll call, especially when important people were coming, and Louis made it his duty to prevent anyone from receiving any form of punishment from him. He still sported the bruises from last time, all the more reason to avoid any form of interaction with _ him_. 

He shook his head and firmly decided his thoughts would stop going back to this place. He was safe in the knowledge he wouldn’t be encountering anyone he was strongly avoiding today, and probably not for a while after. It didn’t matter that he wanted to run so he could catch a good look of the face that haunted him, get his fill to keep going just a bit longer. It was for the best if he actually didn’t. 

No matter how tempting it was to inhale cigarette smoke when stopping the bad habit, it did virtually nothing except deepen the need and longing. He deserved better than having such an addiction, and if no one was about to treat him right, he owed it to himself to do so. 

He still had to rush up the stairs when he heard the first name being called, knowing full well that he didn’t have much time before his. He reached the upper level just in time to hear “Ashimo” barked out, to which he replied positively, panting to get back the air he was lacking in his lungs. He had been running around too much for years to let himself believe it was only due to the impromptu exercise. He still tried, because he was nothing if not good at persuading himself of one thing or another. Thankfully, as the last name was called out, he let himself breathe easier at the fact everyone was here.

He favoured his place hidden in the back, almost fading in the shadows, as Simon’s voice repeated yet again the same set of rules as usual. They could all be summed up to ‘Shut up and do whatever is asked of you’, which is exactly how he ended his speech. Still, the man liked to hear his own voice, and no one was in any place to tell him off.

Silence fell over them like a blanket, slowly descending until it was all they could feel, omnipresent and suffocating. He willed his heart to be quiet and shrunk more into the shadows. His lower lip was probably bitten through at this point, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look up as the heavy doors were opened. The wooden floor had never seemed so clean or fascinating to him. 

A fluttering touch to his right hand made him retract it and look in fright at the instigator of the contact. His heart calmed down as his eyes first took notice of blonde hair, and Niall sent a small smile his way before stepping in front of him. He was confused for all of two seconds, the right amount of time for the first client to set foot inside the lobby. His nose twitched at the smell of lavender, faint but unmistakable to Louis, and his head dropped again. His fringe had gotten long enough for it to be a curtain in front of his face, which was a pain in the ass in every situation except this one. If the shadow and all the people in front of him, including Niall, who was practically a shield at this point, wouldn’t help him be invisible, this would surely do it.

Louis couldn’t really hear what Simon was saying over the beat of his thunderous heart, but it wasn’t like he really cared. He would greet them, ask where and how long they would stay as well as the treatment they would like, and then send away the people who were assigned to these parts. Apart from the duration of their stay which can vary, these specific clients’ order is always the same. 

‘4th floor, view of the lake, the complete session’ he mouthed to the floor at the same time the deep voice said these exact words to his boss. So predictable, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit. Of course someone like him would want and could afford the best accommodation.

Simon’s authoritative voice rung out, calling for two fairies, a crow and a human to accompany the latest guest to his room. Louis felt his shoulder relax as _ his _ companion started babbling out his own order, close to the first one. He had made it through, and the sting in his heart at being so easily discarded was greatly overcome by the relief of being free this time around. Later, he would bribe the mermaid into giving him two portions of chocolate, just to celebrate.

However, the rest was short-lived, as he saw people beginning to shuffle and look around. Nothing yet told him this had to do with him, but his stomach dropped nonetheless. He gulped and went as far as hiding behind the curtain, knowing if Simon saw he had hidden he would get in deep trouble, but it was worth the try. Anything but-

“What is it, Deus?” Simon asked as respectfully as such a bitter man could manage. 

“I would like to request a specific servant for this week, but I have yet to see him,” he replied, sounding distracted. Fuck. Anything but exactly this.

“May I ask who it is you would like to look after you? We will do anything to make your holiday here go as smoo- “

“Ashimo”, a deep voice cut his speech, and the noise of the shuffling and murmur of people replaced their voice instead.

At least until “Ashimo!” was yelled out by Simon, causing a shiver to pass through him.

This was what hell felt like. Now, he had to come out from behind the curtain, everyone’s eyes on him inquisitive as to exactly why he was being picked out specifically out of all of them, and he would get both punishments he had been so wary of. What could he have possibly done in a past life to get him in such a mess?

Before Simon could finish his second, angrier yell of Ashimo, the doors were opened again and Louis took the opportunity to come out of his hiding spot while everyone’s attention was elsewhere. Well, everyone except _ his_. Their eyes immediately met, and Louis held his gaze for five excruciating seconds before he looked towards the entrance.

Everyone had been so enraptured by the arrival of the British Gods they hadn’t even noticed the demons coming in. Now that their bubble had burst though, the uncomfortable settling in their bones that came from being in such close proximity to this species was inescapable. Louis planted his nails in his palms and stepped forward, knowing full well he would have to be theirs for as long as they wanted. 

“Oh good morning, my lords”, Simon exclaimed and turned to them, bowing his head slightly. “I sincerely apologise for the lack of a proper welcome, you took us by surprise.” One of the demons gripped his shoulder at that, chuckling as he said it wasn’t any trouble. Demons tended to be as respectful as their other customers: up until they were in their quarter and received what they had paid for. Still, no matter how jovial they could be, their aura would always make people wrinkle their nose, just like their touch was always at least a little painful. Simon winced, and Louis took satisfaction in that. “Your suites are ready, if your order is indeed the 421?” A nod, and Louis took a step forward, expecting it when “Ashimo, bring them to their rooms, and take Akako and Chihiro with you” was called out.

He nodded and presented himself, bowing respectfully in front of who he assumed to be the leader of this small group. He had never gotten to work with them before and could hardly remember their names, but most of them liked being called by titles rather than names anyway. He stood back up straight when the demon thanked him for his show of respect, as was the tradition. What wasn’t so traditional was the client forcing him to stand up back up with a grip on his chin, but he had learnt a long time ago that not many of them knew or cared to respect boundaries. He only smiled once he received a full, shark-like grin, and turned around to walk down to the habitations he had prepared only ten minutes prior.

“I believe I actually requested for Ashimo to come with me”, came the voice from behind his back and he stopped dead in his tracks, turning around in slow motion.

“Unfortunately, Deus,” he replied with snark hidden in his voice that wouldn’t fall on deaf ears, “I have a set of tasks only I know about, and as such I am the only person qualified to properly take care of these specific customers. Whereas you have four qualified beings at your service, and if you need one more I assure you most humans here are qualified to do whatever you would ask of me.”

“I can confirm” Simon piped up, and Louis would almost believe he was siding with him if he didn’t know this was only to avoid a fight in his hotel. Especially one involving British Gods. “May I suggest you request the help of someone such as Kuta, or maybe Yuri?”

“I’ll pay double.” 

That had Simon gaping at him, seemingly torn between the confusion as to why he was so adamant at having Louis be under him, and the joy at the prospect of more income. Louis was just staring furiously at the green eyes taunting him from afar, challenging him to say something else to get himself out of this. He very well couldn’t, not without giving away more than this idiot already had. By God, he was so infuriating.

“And I’ll pay double that,” the demon replied easily, and Louis was getting whiplash. This could very well be his escape, and he might do anything that was asked of him if this worked. His other bidder, however, didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect as he raised his eyebrows questioningly. “As the sweet thing said,” oh how he hated being addressed by pet names, “he’s the only one here that can provide what I’m asking for. And even more, I’d assume, because I’ll admit I’d like to know what is so special about him,” a large, clawed hand grips his waist and he’s so surprised he doesn’t manage to hold back the whimper escaping him, “that you seem so fixed on getting him.” The demon leans down, talking in his ear but loud enough for everyone to hear, especially in a silence this thick, when he speaks “Care to show me your hidden talents, darling?”

“You’re ready to pay a thousand daenurs?” the god prompts, and Louis can hear the gulp of the demon next to his ear. He tried to compose himself and threw out a ‘yeah’ too casual to be true. He was not the only one to notice, of course not, and Louis knew his fate was sealed when, in a tone that drips out arrogance it’s so full of it, he heard “Then you won’t mind doubling that, as you just said you would.” Then, as the silence stretched on and everyone looked between the two of them as if it were a tennis match, he put down his finishing pawn and said “I know I don’t, and I will.”

Checkmate.

Louis felt the finality in the change of the air, in the defeated demeanour of the one still casually holding him. A god, staring down at a demon from five feet away, in the neutral place between hell and heaven, his raised chin and smug half-grin painting him as cocky and victorious. All for this trembling human, light from the gap in the door hitting him just right all of a sudden, putting him as the true centre of this piece. Still in the arms of the demon, but looking up, right at the god, wishing and dreading to get closer. Louis thought that maybe, in his old life, he had seen this exact scene in a painting. If not, he thought he would have been its creator. The wind picked up, rustling his fringe and snapping them out of this renaissance-fantasy-trance. Simon was the one to bring them back on track.

“Anything you want, deus, anything,” he exclaimed sweetly, vibrating from his excitement. “Ashimo! Tell Akako all there is to know and guide our generous guest over to his room as soon as possible,” he ordered, harsher, and Louis absentmindedly nodded at everything else he added afterwards. 

He flinched when claws graced the tender skin of his hip, leaving superficial traces that wouldn't fade until the next day considering who had put them here. The god’s eyes lowered and hardened at that, staring at the flash of skin as if it had personally offended him. Louis brought his shirt down harshly and glared at him, hating that he had gotten his way. Again. He only received a wink at this, and what he could read as him mouthing ‘you look so hot when you’re mad.’ Louis wanted to kick him in the balls, to show him exactly how hot he could be.

Instead, he turned around and tried to give a rundown to Akako, giving her his scribbled piece of paper with all the information he was supposed to remember. If he was about to be fired and maybe even killed for trying to slaughter a god, he might as well give her good chances at not following his fate.

——————

Louis had always felt intimidated in this part of the resort. The bottom floors are dark and stuffy, overbearing at the worst of times, but generally only provoked an underlying uneasiness, knowing what happens and who stays down there. The middle floors were nicely unremarkable, full of wood and cream colours, reminding Louis in a deep, foggy part of his brain of what home was like. Plants, less hours to work, more freedom, the friendliest species worked there and the customers who rented these spaces, for a few hours for the main part, were the most down-to-Earth - how convenient. 

And Louis was used to encountering divine beings, facing gods and demons and worshipped creatures more than he did humans for as long as he could remember. He had faced the wrath of some and the unwarranted interest of others, had discussions and even shared laughter with Dionysos multiple times, and slapped a god the last time he came by. He had been in every single room a thousand times at the very least, scrubbed every single part of this building and its surroundings. 

And yet, he always felt like an intruder when he was on the fourth floor. The white everywhere, on every wall and every statue, only broken by the painted angels littering the ceiling. The purity emanating from it, circling him and taking him as a prisoner, rooting him to the spot as he could only stand out. Especially today, not conveniently dressed with the recommended white ensemble, sticking out with his sweaty red uniform. Everything was so delicate here as well, no hard lines, no imperfections, only grace and elegance. Once, when he first stepped foot in here, he had corresponded to his environment. Even through his awe he could vaguely recall, he was proportionate to what was required to be in such a place. He looked like the fairies who were currently feeding the god, lounging on the bed and owning the place, attracting every eye to him. They had the same youthful face, chubby thighs and thin arms, delicacy in the way they held themselves and walked. 

He hadn’t felt like he was walking on thin air in a while now. 

Sore thumb he was, standing in the doorway waiting for his instructions. He didn’t have a mission here, could only survey that the other ones were properly doing their job. Could check that Timmy the crow wasn’t getting too restless writing away what was dictated to him, that Alma and Nylah weren’t getting into a fight over who would get to serve the god, that Kosei wasn’t hitting any wrong note or hurting his fingers playing the harp. His eyes darted to the fountain, a steady stream as useless as he. He wondered if he could manage to drown in it. 

Betrayed by his own sight, he unconsciously looked at the figure relaxing on the sheets, having seemingly completely tuned out the world outside of his bubble of nonchalance. Louis noticed for the first time how clenched his jaw was, and concluded it was an uncontrollable reaction to being close to who he courteously called the bane of his meaningless existence. It wasn’t worth it. 

He looked at the work of art on the opposite wall, and found himself entranced. He didn’t understand what exactly was happening and who was represented, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man on his knees and the woman, robe floating, that was standing in front of him. He took a step closer, wanted to see the details on the wings of the angels, see exactly where light was taken over by the shadows, felt compelled to get all the answers to questions he had never asked himself before.

“Selene and Endymion,” is what brought him back. He immediately backed away, trying to go back to where and how he had been just a second prior. An instinctual urge - the one to not bring attention to himself - he went against everyday and yet couldn’t control. The god didn’t seem too bothered by his sudden reaction, as if he had been burnt, as he added “That’s the title of the painting. The name of the artist has slipped my mind right this second, something French,” he trailed off, and Louis just wanted him to forget his existence. 

He made a vague noise of agreement and looked down. At least, if his focus was on his feet, he wouldn’t make any more missteps. He would grow restless in a few minutes, needed to occupy his mind or at least his hands. He also needed to buy some time away from him. 

“I think I’m gonna go,” he blurted out of nowhere, completely forgetting all the training he’s had to treat the customers with the utmost respect. He looked up, only to meet green eyes and raised eyebrows, entirely focused on him. He tamed his urge to squirm and explained his request “I need to change into proper clothes.”

A familiar smirk shaped the lips he couldn’t help but stare at, and he could tell something was on the tip of his tongue. Before any remark could get out, he did. 

He rushed to the human quarters, not to get back sooner but to put as much space as possible between them before allowing himself to relax. He still had to hurry, couldn’t allow people to see him out and about or his client to complain to Simon, but he figured he had five minutes of peace. 

The rooms, right under the roof and overpacked, were reached quickly. He opened the drawer under his bed and picked out his white uniform, when he smelt it. The lavender he hadn’t washed away, in a moment of weakness and wanting to keep some sort of souvenir. He couldn’t go back down like this, would immediately be found out by the source of the smell, resting only a floor below him. 

He didn’t have time to wash it now, and couldn’t go back wearing his current clothes without giving something away. A glance at the drawer next to his and a preemptive apology to Niall later, he grabbed his smooth, odourless uniform and replaced it with his own.

The pants were a bit tighter than he liked while the top made him wonder if Niall had asked for the size above his, but it was the least of his problems as he walked back at a pace so slow he was taking two breaths in between each step. The distance between their rooms truly wasn’t big enough. Maybe, if luck was on his side, he would get whisked away on another mission somewhere on the way there. 

As he reached the door again, it was clear that wasn’t the case. He took a deep breath, and looked at the three similar doors surrounding him. He could always knock on the wrong one, try and work for Liam instead. He had seemed nice enough, the few times he had glanced at him, he might not even notice, or at least pretend not to.

The door opened and Timmy flew right over his head, almost hitting him. Louis was confused, but figured the crow might have had to go pick something up, or maybe ask for another one to replace him.

A foot set into the room and he knew he had been wrong in his assumption.

“Thank you for your work, sweethearts, I will make sure to leave a good word about you,” he heard, and the god had turned on all his charms, making the fairies blush from where they were standing. “Here, take two of those each, and give the two other ones to the musician. I trust you with it, do not disappoint me.” Louis barely saw them hurry away and towards the back of the room as he stood there, stunned. What exactly did he think he was doing? “Ah, Ashimo! Just the one I was looking for.”

“What are you doing?” he asked Alma, completely ignoring the call for his attention.

It didn’t prevent the one he was ignoring to also be the one replying, as he said “I decided to free them all, I only really need one servant after all.”

Louis turned back towards him, staring him down with unimpressed eyes. This couldn’t happen, and he would make damn sure it didn’t. He would wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

“You can’t,” he said with a voice that left no room for arguments. That had never stopped _him_, though.

“Why not?” Always taunting, always challenging, always pushing.

“Humans aren’t allowed to write,” he pointed about the lack of a crow.

“I’m sure if need be, Simon-san would gladly make an exception for a few more daenurs.” He had a point.

“I don’t know how to play the harp,” he threw a glance at Kosei, who was walking towards the door with a fairy on each side._ Please don’t leave_, he almost said.

“Your voice is music enough to my ears, darling.”

“I’m mute.” He was reaching, desperately grasping onto anything, hoping maybe he would piss him off so much he would decide he’s not worth the trouble.

“And I would like a bath.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving them completely alone. Second victory of the day for the god, and his grin couldn’t possibly get any bigger. 

Louis swallowed his pride and silently went to work. He hadn’t won against a god in a very long time now.

  
  
  


Preparing a bath truly was a mindless job after repeating the task a few times. Everything here was a mindless job after a few times. 

Louis put the only card that was in the bathroom in the box, waited for the light to appear, and pulled the string above the bathtub. As hot, rose-smelling water slowly trickled out, he brought flame to each candle around him, laid out the comfiest towels they had and put down the tray of diverse soaps down on the floor, right next to where he would kneel. This had taken enough time for him to only have to stop the flow of water, not wanting the tub to overfill as could sometimes happen. 

Then, he braced himself and signalled to the god he could come in. He was nothing if not always trying to do his best at his job, the only fluctuation of emotion in his life the satisfaction at having succeeded even the simplest tasks, but this was seriously testing him.

He looked down as he heard footsteps approaching, didn’t want to find himself uncontrollably staring at the naked body entering the room. His hands were trembling, he noticed then, and clamped them down between his thighs. This was nothing he hadn’t done before, and if he didn’t let his mind wander, he would be left unscathed. It wasn’t the first time he found himself in a position similar to this one, though never to this extent. It wasn’t the second or third either, hell he had lost count so long ago. He just knew that with each one, it felt like the last he would be able to resist, to control himself. His resolve was thinning, each passing day reminding him he had nothing to lose. 

The dull sound of cloth hitting the marble floor brought him back, and with it a new kind of resolve. He had been losing a lot of battles lately, he couldn’t stand losing the war, would break open and be left unhinged if he let himself go just a second too long. No one would be there to save him if he didn’t save himself.

“You’re not coming in the water with me, angel?” he heard behind him. The god tutted as he approached, gripped Louis’ hand with his own to put in the water and test the temperature of the water. It was the right heat, and he let his face stay blank, ignoring the scrutinising stare only a few centimetres away from his face. His lack of response seemed like enough of a refusal for the god to pipe up again “Now that’s a loss, but I’m sure you’ll find yourself convinced soon.”

Fear took over his body, imagining himself being thrown in the water forcefully. Instead, fingers graced his skin as they let his hand go, and the god dipped down in the water, leaving Louis with an impressive view of his behind. The burn in his cheeks felt foreign, it hadn’t been there in so long.

A sigh escaped the plump lips he found himself staring at next, head thrown back over the lip of the tub and arms resting on its sides. The picture of relaxed, and Louis was brought back to all the sculptures he saw in this exact room. The straight nose, the restful aura that came from closed eyelids and hair flowing around in disorder, the delicate lines of the cupid bow in contrast to the sharpness of the cheekbone. In those moments, fleeting and fragile, Louis knew this beauty didn’t come from a divine glow but was carved in each feature of its possessor. And all he could wish for was to one day carve an exact replica to keep with him at all times, when the original artwork would inevitably go away, maybe for good this time. To have a version he could caress every part of, feel every line, maybe destroy when the time came, just to return the favour.

A tap on the ceramic next to him reminded him of what he was set to do, and he took a deep breath before getting to it. Bad idea, as he got a strong whiff of lavender, wishing he could stop the shivers that wracked his body every time he smelt it. He took the cloth and brought it into the water, wetting it before he was set to put soap on it.

“Use your hands, love,” came the deep rumble again, making Louis freeze from where he was letting the water drip out. “I’m sure they will be far more enjoyable to me than even silk could.”

He bit his cheek hard to prevent himself from responding, and placed the soaked cloth back in the basin next to his feet. Readjusting on the pillow under his knees, he took the first soap bar in his reach and rubbed it between his palms. Vanilla settled in his nostrils, and he could think clearly. That was a nice smell that held no emotional weight on Louis prior to this encounter. He could deal with it.

The steam was making the air hot and humid, and Louis could feel the ends of his hair starting to curl and the skin of his exposed limbs getting dotted with small droplets. He wanted fresh air sooner rather than later, so he decided to rip the bandage off and just let his entire hand rest on the god’s shoulder at once.

He didn’t show any reaction to the zip of electricity that coursed through their touching skin except for the slight jerk of his hand he couldn’t help, and started rubbing each shoulder. The goosebumps he could see through the buds of white foam were fascinating, but the heat of the skin and feel of the muscles under his palms was at the forefront of his mind. Some part of his brain was trying to alert him of the growing hardness in his pants, but he ignored it. It was a problem for a later date.

He took the arm closest to him out of the water and scrubbed it leisurely, tracing the most visible veins with the nail of his thumb. The only sign he wasn’t the only one affected by his ministrations was the occasional twitch of the fingers that were hovering a centimetre above his thigh. He felt his heart slow down as he went lower, getting used to the intimacy that came with cleaning his soulmate’s body.

He jolted at that thought. He couldn’t allow himself to think in such terms or it would all be downhill from there. Hell, he had taken so long to stop saying his name, even in his head, knowing the whirlwind of emotions awaiting him whenever he only heard it pronounced in a conversation. He needed to get a grip or he would be in a situation he wasn’t sure he could get out of once again. 

All the air from his lungs left them at once, body reacting as if he had just taken a hit. He only had time to look at the hand that had managed to intertwine with his own before he was pulled towards the bathtub. It wasn’t hard or high enough for him to fall in the water as well, but his entire arm was soon held hostage against the god’s chest, his upper body barely resting above the foam that had started to form. Oxygen refused to pass his constricted throat, even as he was left there gaping at how, even after all this time and changes in his shape, he was still so small compared to him.

His ears felt hot, and he didn’t know if the heat overtaking his body came from a place of anger or embarrassment or something else, worse. He needed to get out of here. He couldn’t rejoice in the feeling of being held down against this strong chest and knowing the exact beat of the heart beneath it, in the smell of lavender permeating him inside and out, in the way he could just lift his head a bit and try to taste the lavender in the god’s mouth. It was all he could do.

“Join me in here, sweetheart,” was murmured above him, the breath so close it moved the top of his hair, their bodies so close he moved with the vibrations accompanying each word. “We both know you want to, why are you torturing the both of us?”

He wasn’t. He was looking after himself.

Louis sighed and started scrubbing what was accessible with his arm still being held tightly. The grip got looser as his fingers pressed into the god’s collarbones, and by the time all that wasn’t submerged was covered in a thin layer of product, his movements were completely free. He could still feel the burn of the gaze never leaving the top of his head.

His ribs ached from being pressed against the tub, but it was only a good weight on his flying spirits. He wouldn’t get too far into his own head if some suffering could remind him of who exactly he was and why this wasn’t his life. He pursued it, and only moved enough to reach the receptacle used to rinse off the customers. 

He let the water trickle down the muscles, washing away all traces of his passage, only followed by his fascinated gaze. 

So many kinds of creatures had set foot in this small town, some he still ignored the type of. He had tended to worshipped beings of all sorts, animal-like and humanoids and indescribable all the same, who varied in their origin and age and power. It had taught him not to make an assumption on their character based off their looks alone, as the most dishevelled ones could very well be incredibly powerful and the more repulsive one very generous in their tips. Gods who were aesthetically pleasing graced these walls every so often, and they were the ones who had the strongest aura, magnetic and majestic. The pull wore off after some time ; they were bright lights after staying in the dark too long, blinding if only temporarily, the body capable of adjusting to much more than the brain would think possible.

The pull to this specific god never wore off, never so much as wavered, and Louis was once again reminded of it as he felt the last piece of his sanity wavering down the same path the droplets he couldn’t stop focusing on. Then again, no other being had ever manipulated his heart quite so easily.

When the skin was glistening wet, glowing under the soft light hanging above them, Louis bit the inside of his lip as he pondered his next move. He could very well get up and leave the room, letting the god enjoy a hot bath the way almost everyone did here. He knew it wasn’t what was expected of him, knew it would only delay the inevitable demand that would fall from those vicious lips. That if he dared not comply he would get yet another punishment as soon as Simon heard of it. A part of him, the one he hated and couldn’t ever escape, knew that wouldn’t happen, that _ he _ wouldn’t ever let it happen.

“You’re not quite done yet, love.”

He had taken too long to make a decision, and it was clear once again who was in charge here. Louis was sick of being reminded of it, but could only swallow his bitter words and rub some more soap on his hands. Vanilla was floating around them, heavier because of the hot puffs that came from the bath, and maybe because the chemicals were desperately trying to cling onto the god’s skin, making a place for them in between his cells and coming out of him reinvigorated. He felt as if he had been one to do that to some extent, once upon a time.

As he was about to dip his hand and reach the yet untouched part of the body in front of him, his wrist was grabbed again. This time, he didn’t make any move to pull or move it, only accepted the hold for what it was - unrelenting and demanding. A small tug indicated he was requested to look up, but he was scared all his most violent thoughts would be displayed when faced with these green eyes. He bit his lip and tried to forget how his index finger was splayed on his arm just so, in a way that would make his erratic pulse that much more palpable. He wanted to drown in the soft waves created by his heavy exhale and dancing just in front of his face. The movements of the water were easier to focus on than what was laying underneath, only a few centimetres from any touch from Louis.

Another sigh was heard all of a sudden, and the god seemingly understood any call for Louis’ attention would be rendered useless. He took pride in that, but only for long enough that it was cut short by the deep voice rasping in his ear “Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he let out softly, always so softly in those rare moments. “Just say the word, and I will finish it myself.”

Not ‘let you go away’ or ‘leave you alone’. Only a quick reprieve, one he could use, but one that would never be enough. 

“I can’t,” he spoke out, loud and clear just to surpass the loud voice in his mind. He tugged at his wrist and started rubbing the god’s right hip, all his work washing away as soon as he put it there due to the still surrounding water. A second too late to really be smooth, he added “I’m mute, remember?”

A huff reached his ear, both in noise and contact, and Louis hated to realise he recognised it as a surprised one. 

“Only you could,” the god started again, but cut himself off, and Louis wasn’t about to ask for the complete sentence no matter how bad his thirst for knowledge was. The body he was now rubbing the lower stomach of shifted, resting more comfortably in the large bathtub, and he hardly resisted not planting his nails in the skin under his pads when he heard “My stubborn little kitten.”

If he tugged a bit too harshly when getting stuck in the happy trail, that was neither here nor there.

He tensed when he had done the entire circle of the god’s waist, ending up right where he started. He could only go lower now, had to really. In a split, last second choice, he completely bypassed the entire groin and bum area and dived right back on the upper thighs. It was still a bit too close for comfort, but he didn’t want to try and push his luck.

HIs hands may not touch it, but he couldn’t help but let his eyes trace over the thick girth once, enjoying the eyeful not for the first time. He heard a throat clearing, and when he looked back up in alarm, he realised that he had been scrubbing the same part for so long it was a little pink, and that the infamous smirk was right back. He blushed terribly and decided that focusing on the pigeon-toed feet at the other end of the tub was the safest route. 

“You know,” the same, gritting voice piped up from behind his head, falsely conversational, “I’ve always found it funny, how those greeks and romans always have their small penises exposed so proudly.” Louis’ hand slips at that, making him lose his balance for a second where he saves himself by harshly grabbing the milky thigh under his palm. So much for trying to get this done quickly. “I get where they’re coming from, with their obsession of reason over all other matters of life - which, may I add, while a really nice thought, was only ever respected by very few humans and exactly no gods.” From the corner of his eye he caught movement, and his peripheral vision provided just enough for him to understand where the god’s big hand just wrapped itself. “Still, without getting into the absurd views society nowadays have, as if having the biggest penis brings some sort of upper status in life,” his heart feels like it’s about to jump right out of his mouth and lay there for anyone - _ him _ \- to take or stomp on as the movements of the god’s hand on his dick matches Louis’ movements on his calves to a fault. It’s hard to focus back on the task at hand, or on the conversation, when it feels like he’s the one jacking him off, even indirectly, and all he can focus on is the gentle noise of the water moving with the action and this goddamn smell of vanilla that he can’t escape, making him feel heady. The god doesn’t seem to have any problem with doing so, however, as he carries on, with only a slightly rougher edge to his voice as a proof of what is truly happening, “I do believe it should be honoured when one can provide not only for his own pleasure, but for the others he decides to bed as well.” He wants to rip his skin off, wants to push the hand away and replace it with his own, wants to jump in the bath and see just how satisfied, how pleasured, he can be. “Going from that, Apollo certainly wouldn’t be as praised as he is now,” he finished, almost as an afterthought, his voice betraying just how far from this conversation he really was.

Louis, who only now realised he had halted his movements at some point to instead focus on the flexing of the arm moving up and down right next to him, got back to business as to take his thoughts away from the situation. As if he ever could. 

“I don’t know who you’ve heard that from, but you’ve been misinformed,” he finally thought of replying as a grunt reached his ear and bounced around his skull. Distraction, distraction, distraction.

“What?” He earned as a semi-answer, this clearly not being a priority right this instant for the god.

“I’ve seen Apollo, took care of him myself,” he hummed, going back to the memories he had with the god as to stop getting side-tracked from his actual goal. “He’s well endowed, probably the biggest I’ve,” he stops there, thrown off by the cold air surrounding him all of a sudden and the way the hair on his arms raise in alarm. He shakes his head and collects his thoughts, too focused to let himself be unsettled “Just as good-looking as I would have expected him as well, if not more. Truly a sight for sore eyes,” he sighed appropriately and bit his lip, remembering the powerful stance and beautiful physique of the greek god. Sometimes, Louis was lucky, like when he had the chance to be the one to manage Apollo’s stay.

“The biggest you’ve what?” was asked harshly by the god on his left, and Louis jumped, having forgotten him for a few seconds. Other times, Louis was unlucky, or maybe just dumb, like when he decided that mentioning this was a good idea in front of this specific god. He wasn’t aware of any bad blood between them, but one could never assume. “I asked, the biggest you’ve what?” Harsher, more urgent, too much.

“That’s something between Apollo and I, isn’t it?” Louis asked right back and dared truly look up this time, looking right at the enraged face and meeting straight on the hard gaze that had been focused on him for so long. They collided with each other for a few seconds, all until the god opened his mouth again and Louis took it as his cue to get up and pick the pillow he had dragged with him to put back in its place. “My work here is done, I will request a second refill and let you enjoy your hot bath. I hope you were satisfied by my services, Deus.” 

He gave the god a small smile, and then went through the motions of pushing the card in a second time so the bath would empty and fill up again. He did it all as quickly as he could manage so he wouldn’t be held back by another frivolous request. He was so impatient he forgot he was supposed to be mute, forgot it didn’t matter how quickly he left the room he still had to follow orders, forgot how much of a stupid idea it had been to not indulge in the god’s questions.

All he could think of was that he should now add vanilla to the scents that were ruined for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be divided into multiple chapters, but they should be coming up regularly except if college hits me real hard.  
don't hesitate to ask below if something confuses you or you're not sure why something is the way it is, and i'll try and explain (or you can also comment random thoughts you got going on or even the song that's been stuck in your mind lately, i'm happy with everything really)  
you can also go and reblog the [ fic post ](https://quelquesetoiles.tumblr.com/post/187579506837/latibule-louis-had-worked-in-the-infamous-resort) if your heart so desires, and you can also follow me there to scream at me or catch a glimpse at what i reblog (hint : it's a lot of art and larry)


	2. Day 1 - part 2

Choppy breath, frantic steps and shaking arms. The weight between his palms was bringing him down, all the more reason to get back to the room quicker. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ran as much in a day, but he could already feel how quickly he would be out of it as soon as he would lay his head on his pillow. The hot sun beating down on his head and blinding him told him he still had a few hours to go before blissful freedom.

He only took the time to smile at the people he was passing, because he couldn't really stop for a chat just now. His search had taken him to visit the entire town, even in its smallest and deepest corner, and nothing could possibly tell him how long he had taken. The only thing he had were prayers that the god hadn’t yet stepped out of the bath.

In other circumstances, leaving him waiting could have not gone terribly wrong ; but as he was the only one to take care of him, he was apprehensive of what was awaiting him if a being that was used to having everything they wanted as soon as their desires were formed wasn’t satisfied. He was already keeping from him something he had been asking for for years, he couldn’t worsen his already bad case.

A new surge of motivation ran through him at this, adrenaline taking over his body as those thoughts plagued his mind, and he took a better grip on the heavy object in his arms that was slowly slipping from his reach. He could do this, especially now that he could see his workplace, growing bigger with each step forward. 

As he placed a foot on the bridge, bracing himself for the weird sensation that always coursed through him as a human whenever he walked on it, he was abruptly stopped by a gigantic figured whose wings blocked the sun. He almost dropped his cargo in his fear, but all his muscles locked instead because of the fright. 

“When aren’t you running around, Ash?” the voice was amused and he immediately knew who it came from.

“Whenever you’re not in sight, Z,” he replied, though not as sarcastically as he wanted, as he was still very much out of breath.

A hand with black fingers and menacing claws appeared right in front of his face to grip the chest of its owner, right where the heart would lay if Zayn had been human. “You’re breaking my heart,” he said in a deceptively sad voice. “Am I that repulsive to your pure, blue eyes?”

Louis huffed, readjusted the object in his arms again, and finally looked up at his face. Zayn never looked more like the half-raptor he was than when he smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Louis had learnt not to pay it any mind a long time ago, way back when Zayn decided to take him under his wing and guide him so he could survive this world. The link between the two was unexplainable because of its sheer lack of sense, but they both protected each other in a way that Louis tended to forget but was always pleased to be reminded of.

“You’re absolutely astounding in your charms, my sweet nightingale,” he told him with a grin of his own, realising just now how much he had missed him and wishing his arms were free so he could wrap him in a hug. Which, now that he was acknowledging the heavy weight again, he was still very much on a time-important mission. “However, I am a bit busy and can’t afford to lose all day complimenting you, even though you know it is my favourite activity.”

Zayn seemed to just now notice that Louis was in a hurry and in pain, taking in his form and the package he was holding onto for dear life. He raised his brow in question, silently prying for an explanation, to which Louis made a vague raise of his chin towards the top of the hotel. It was a true testament to their closeness that Zayn seemed to immediately understand, and Louis could pinpoint the moment of realisation from the trying-to-be-comforting smile that formed on Zayn's face. He had never been much good for showing all things supportive, and even plain positive when at his worst. He still tried to make an effort to have reactions and a body language that were understandable by humans, just like Niall and Louis were slowly learning how different emotions were displayed by a hybrid.

“You want a ride?” Zayn offered, and Louis let out a breathy ‘yes’, thinking he could really use Zayn’s flying abilities just about now. 

Just as soon as he had appeared, the towering hybrid disappeared from in front of him. Louis was confused for a second, long enough to be surprised by the sudden harsh grip on his shoulders. Zayn always carried Louis in his arms when they flew together, fearing he wouldn’t be able to control the strength with which he held Louis if he used his bird feet as he would with a prey. Louis was quite satisfied with this deal, as the idea of being left to dangle, completely relying on someone else for his own safety, scared him to his core - now that he would admit it to anyone.

However, it seemed he didn’t have a choice today, as he was soon lifted off his feet and held up by his upper arms. He let out of a scream and held his package closer to his chest, as if it would somehow help him in his potential fall. Zayn was cackling, the sound reminding him of the bird yells that filled the sky from time to time, and if Louis wasn’t still screaming his lungs out he would definitely be telling him to shut up for once in his life. There was nothing funny about the quick ascend of the hybrid and the abyss beneath Louis’ feet.

“Come on, Ash!” Louis heard through the wind ringing in his ears, and he finally closed his mouth as tightly shut as his eyes in fear of throwing up. “I wouldn’t ever drop you, stop squirming and enjoy the view!”

“I’d rather die!” he yelled right back, feeling the dozens of eyes staring at the two and trying to assess the situation.

“You sure?” Zayn asked in a smug voice, and Louis started cursing as he felt the claws digging in his flesh loosen just the slightest bit, hinting at letting him fall to his death. Louis knew, somewhere deep down, he wouldn’t die if he was dropped. He would most likely land right in the deep part of the river, like this one other time Zayn had decided to be a right pain in the arse. The majority of his brain couldn’t grasp that though, and he started flailing his legs as if that would help if he were left alone in the air. He was let down an inch as Zayn let him go just to pick him up again right away.

“You gigantic dick I will make nuggets out of you how could you-” Louis yelled out, opening his eyes so he could glare at Zayn as he threatened him. However, he immediately stopped to gasp instead, getting absorbed in the view underneath him before he could even look up to go through with it.

The village seemed so insignificant from up there, and his breath was taken away as he looked at all the beings running around, tiny dots moving around the streets. The colourful rooftops and traditional sculptures made the place even more picturesque, and Louis wondered why a simple change of perspective could make everything seem nicer. What really took his breath away was the river, sparkling in millions of tiny diamonds that reflected the light of the sun. He wanted to see it all, explore this city he knew too well from a new point of view and discover it all over again. His heart stuttered, and he felt even more exhilarated at knowing a certain God who smelled too much of lavender wasn’t the only one capable of making him feel things. He could get over him in peace now, knowing the god wasn’t the sole owner of his strongest emotions.

“See? You should trust me more,” Zayn voiced from above him, and Louis wanted to be short with him just for the sake of not letting him have the last word, but there were more important matters such as the landscape below him. “Ash, get ready.”

He brought his head up reluctantly, wondering what he needed to get ready for, just in time to see the wall they were flying towards full speed. He let out a shriek and braced for the impact, but Zayn abruptly stopped and lowered, depositing him on the right balcony with more delicacy than Louis thought him capable of.

Once safely on the ground and out of Zayn’s death grip, he gently laid his package down besides his feet and urgently turned around. He couldn’t take any risk of Zayn flying back to wherever he came from before he embraced him, which justified his prompt tug by the hybrid’s left leg. For once, he was the one to let out a shriek, but Louis didn’t give himself time to truly appreciate it and immediately wrapped his arms around the feathery torso of his good friend.

He felt both arms and wings engulf him and let out a breath he felt he had been holding for much longer than just the ride. The closest he could ever feel to safe was in Zayn’s embrace, and he would never be grateful enough for him. He was relaxed, could forget himself and everything happening in his life when in this position, and he held on even tighter, wishing he could never let go.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Rude wake-up call, like cold water sliding down his back. He felt the tension overtaking the body he was still attached to, and he quickly left the safe blanket he had taken refuge in so he could turn back towards the man he was still very much working for. Swallowing back down the disrespectful words he wanted to spit out hurt his throat, and he bit his lip extra hard to not focus on that first pain. He bent down to pick up the reason for his trip and stood back up, refusing to look up from the floor.

“I’ll see you tonight boo, yeah?” He felt a nudge on his shoulder to accompany the request, and couldn’t bring himself to do more than nod. He couldn’t have a true moment of peace, could he?

Getting to fly only made being shackled even more painful. Louis wished he would stop indulging in the short pleasures that only brought more pain.

He felt the air making him stumble forward more than he heard Zayn take a flight, but the result was all the same. He was left alone with the god, again.

“I didn’t remember requesting a pet when I sent you on this errand,” the icy voice said, prompting him to look straight at its owner with fire in his eyes.

Which is when he noticed the god was completely naked and still dripping. He was just like the river, endless expanses of glimmering lights, blinding and mesmerising him. He couldn’t help it, traced every line of his body with his eyes, feeling like he discovered it yet again just because it appeared under a new light. He realised now he had never seen the god outside of the cocoon of the resort, had never had the chance to see how the sun further accentuated the green of his eyes and the gentle sweep of his brown, seemingly golden curls.

Louis couldn’t deal with this anymore. The twitch of his fingers told him a story he knew all too well, warned him of the upcoming threat to his mental health. He was about to jump the god.

Instead, he jumped in the river.

Louis didn’t really know what exactly he had expected. He assumed there weren't many rational thoughts running through his mind at the time, his fight or flight instinct the only possible explanation for the stupid dive he was trying to take.

He wasn’t even sure he had been right in his calculation. He could very well be falling to his death right now. He took a moment to ponder whether it was fortunate or not, and came to no conclusion.

He looked at the blue sky one last time, realising now he had no idea where humans went when they died. Maybe he had been dead all along, and this place was it. What would happen now then?

Then, he closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact.

It came. Only it came from the wrong side, as a weight hit him right on the stomach. Then, he was wrapped, intertwined with another body for the second time. Only, this one smelled too much of lavender to be just anyone.

Louis really hoped he had really already hit the ground and this was just his brain conjuring some weird, parallel timeline where the most idiotic god he had ever had the misfortune of encountering had decided to take him in his arms, entirely naked, as they both fell fast towards the ground - or water.

The feel of his body manually turned in the air, resulting in a it being shielded from the worst impact of the fall, felt too vivid to be coming from his brain. How could all his plans possibly always go so terribly wrong? Death didn’t seem so bad all of a sudden.

The grip on his body tightened and he reciprocated it automatically, hid himself in the strong chest he could only hope was somehow made of steel. He knew the end of their journey was almost there.

Yet, instead of a loud splash or a painful landing on some hard surface, his fall was softened as if he had only jumped on a bed. He waited ten extra seconds for good mesure, as if the pain would only settle once he saw and acknowledged it. It didn't happen. Tentatively, he opened his left eye, wondering just how he could be fine now, and what was tickling his hand, that were still very much resting on the god’s shoulder blades.

He didn’t need to open his eyes before he understood, though the visual aid was still useful.

He was laying on a god, who was himself laying on a bed of flowers - with a prominence of lavenders - that was definitely not here only five seconds ago.

Louis knew he was supposed to be thankful, to only show some recognition from the salvation he had just been lucky enough to get. He still wanted to hurl at his saviour.

He looked up, ready to give him a piece of his mind, and was taken aback as soon as his eyes landed on him. He really needed to stop looking at the god’s face, it wasn’t bringing him any pleasant experience and made him tongue tied more often than not.

Yet something about seeing him in his preferred habitat, surrounded with the flowers he so clearly held close to heart, was doing something to Louis. The way the plants seemed to adapt and move just to accommodate him, climb in his hair and tickle his cheeks. He rose with the breath the god took, and then moved when he started laughing. Louis was plagued with thoughts of poking him right in the dimple for a few seconds too long, before he remembered he was angry, and how dare he laugh.

“Okay no, you’re not laughing right now, what the actual fuck Ha-” the laughter stopped abruptly, letting place to an overwhelmingly hopeful gaze dancing all around his face, and Louis swallowed and carried on as if unaffected, “half-a-brain,” he let out in a softer voice.

He didn’t have the energy to continue the screaming match as the face before him completely fell. Guilt took over his heart like poisonous vines, but he brushed it off. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Still, he gulped and pushed on the naked chest, just now remembering the state of undress of the god under him. He stood up before the blush could fully form on his cheeks and slipped away, to the far edge of the parterre of flowers.

“I’m sorry,” he let out, and he wasn’t entirely sure which part he was apologising for. “I’ll go and pick up something to get you dressed, I’ll be quick.”

He backed away until he fell off onto the hard ground, and pondered the idea of lying there and feeling sorry for himself for a second before getting a move on.

When he came back down with a linen for the god to drape himself with, he was welcomed with an assembly of citizens surrounding him, being his usual charming self despite his lack of proper clothing. It was a painful reminder of their history to be the only one to realise that the persona he had just turned on was entirely fake. He didn’t say anything however, and let himself only be the bearer of a more proper divine attire. He turned around right after and marched back up the steps, not knowing if he would be followed or not and pretending not to care.

He had his answer in the form of an arm leisurely thrown around his shoulders, and a flower crown preciously placed upon his head. If anyone had remarks about a blushing human servant wearing a flower crown walking in the hall under the arm of the half-naked British god of flowers, they only made them in hushed whispers behind their backs.

Louis was in the corner of the room, struggling to understand how to work out the machine. The knowledge of each of his moves being followed by careful eyes wasn’t of any help either, adding to the clamminess of his palms and making him even more jerky. He couldn’t well snap at the god, even less so now that he owed him his life.

Oh no. He owed _him_ his life.

As if he wasn’t already having a difficult time, he was in debt of a god. Why did he always have to act so impulsively? He could only hope the god didn’t realise the implication of his precedent act, or Louis was doomed.

“Have you never used a radio before, love?”

Radio. Right. That was the name of the evil artefact that had been refusing to work, no matter how many buttons he turned and hits he gave it.

“I can’t say I have, considering we tend to procure our own music to our customers, deus,” he replied distractedly, wondering if maybe he was supposed to put the weird circle in his hand in the long gap on the side. Couldn’t hurt to try - something told him he should.

“Why won’t you say my name? “ came the question he had been expecting and dreading, yet taking Louis by surprise so much he stopped in his tracks.

The slow drawl tried to make itself only courteous and curious, but the accusation rung clear on the last word. He had wondered, the three last times they had been in the same room before today, if the god ever noticed he was only addressed by his formal title by Louis. If one day, he would dare confront him about it, or if it didn’t even make a change to him what name he was called. He blamed his earlier slip up as the reason of his sudden notice. It seemed like today was the day he was to acknowledge the bond a name created, especially in such a place.

“Why won’t you?” he only replied back, going back to his attempts to get the damn thing to work. Maybe he would postpone that conversation for a bit longer. Forever could do.

“Because I don’t know it.” No attempt at hiding the bitterness in his words this time. He spat it out as if it had been a small rock in his peaceful path once that, from running through his mind so often, had become a ginormous rock weighing him down at every step. As if it was both relieving to let it finally slip out of his conscious, but hurt on the entire way down. Louis knew there was truth to this.

“You do,” he lied through his teeth and the disc entered the gap smoothly with only a little push. “I am Ashimo, and you had no problem with using it earlier when talking to Doctor Simon.”

“That is not your name and we both know it.”

He was turned around just then, expecting the god to be the one holding his arm and forcing him to look at him. Louis was instead faced with him still lying on the bed and a grapevine connecting the two, wrapped around both hands though one to hold and the other to control. Their eyes met, and Louis knew the truth was written all over his face, but his stubbornness made him hold himself with pride all the same. Green held shades of being unimpressed, hiding the slight pleading holding itself in there.

Right then, he had the possibility to come clean and carve with only his words pure giddiness in the god’s features. He could take a leap, just like the one he had taken a few minutes ago and was still recovering from, and see where he would end up. Probably he would be held through his fall and saved from his inevitable drop by the same being. Most likely he would end up fine, if not better than what he was right now. The possibility to change his destiny was right there, both on the tip of his tongue and looking back at him with a yearning he had only ever seen when looking in the mirror.

“I do not understand what you are implying, deus,” he decided on stating instead, and immediately turned back to miss the look of hurt he would be faced with otherwise. His heart dropped at the same time the vine that held onto his arm did. He plunged through and added “As far as we are both concerned, I am Ashimo and I am here to serve you.”

“Fine,” he heard in a non-plussed voice, and a weight was lifted off his chest - and no disappointment whatsoever settled deep in his belly at such a quick give up. “Give me back my flower crown then.”

“What?” he exclaimed and turned in outrage, immediately putting a hand to the top of his head to hold onto it. “No! It’s mine, you made it for me!” he immediately protested, without thinking.

“I certainly didn’t make it for Ashimo,” he earned as a reply, and he was too busy frantically trying to keep his propriety to pay any mind to the slight mouth twitch on the god's otherwise impassive face.

“Who cares, I am not Ashimo,” he snarked back, and then put a hand to cover his mouth in horror.

Slowly, with pride bordering on arrogance, the god sat up and bent forward on the bed, not letting his gaze drift away for even a second. Louis was frantically searching for a way to go back on his tracks but came up with nothing when he was addressed again, asked “Then who _are_ you, petal?”

“The subject of your torture,” he sighed out, which was still the truth even if not the answer that was waited for. It wasn’t like Louis made a habit of providing them.

The god seemed taken aback, the furrow between his brows deepening as he considered it. Louis turned back and pressed whatever button he first reached, hoping to distract them both away from this conversation.

“You torture me just as much, sweet creature,” the god settled on, and before Louis could reply with some denial of this truly outrageous comparison, some sound filled the room.

He had made the radio work. He was free.

He bit his lip to conceal his joy at managing to do so, and decided he quite liked the sound of whatever it was he was hearing. It awakened something deep in the recess of his mind, recognition from another life. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the repetitive noise of the drums and the gentle strums of the guitar. He swore that if he concentrated enough, he could sing the words at the same time as the singer.

Low humming came from behind him, and Louis got intrigued and turned towards the god, now resting against the headboard and openly gawking at his body. He shifted, uncomfortable with the scrutiny he was under, but that only brought him the uncomfortable realisation that green eyes were now fixated on his own blue ones, pinning him to the spot immediately. Unfair usage of god power or the weakness of his own traitorous body, he wasn’t sure who was the culprit behind his sudden jelly legs.

“Tell me now baby, is he good to you? Can he do to you the things that I do? Oh no, I can take you higher. Oh I’m on fire,” the god sang out with the man on the radio, voice deeper than Louis would have expected.

Louis got the double-meaning of the words thrown at him as soon as he saw the fire in the god’s eyes, the same he had seen when confronted with him after he arrived with Zayn. He could take him higher than Zayn ever could, and in more ways than one. Probably meant it as a general he, rounding together Apollo and the demon from the morning and all the other males he felt as not a threat, but more an obstacle in his ridiculous quest. Louis wasn’t an award to be passed from hand to hand, though he seemed to be the only one to realise it.

Tingles made an appearance on the apples of his cheeks, the back of his neck, the bottom of his spine. Some twisted part of him was pleased and yearning for the acts that the words implied. An itch that had been plaguing him for years and he just wanted to scratch, at least once. The unwavering eye contact and the lack of any lyrics, only the same instrumental playing for the last seconds and building up to something, made it impossible to escape his intrusive thoughts.

“Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull, and a cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull,” Louis barely had time to wrinkle his forehead in confusion at this part before the vine from before he had completely forgotten about rounded his waist and tugged him forward. “At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train ruining through the middle of my head, only you can cool my desire,” the lick of his lips was enticing and Louis didn’t remember if he was moving forward because of the physical or the emotional pull. “Oh, I’m on fire.”

The melody was fading out but every words still rung clear as day through Louis’ head, bouncing around his skull so it could be imprinted in every corner of his brain. They had sounded so sincere, so targeted, and Louis knew he shouldn’t let himself feel affected but it was already too late.

“I remember this,” he squeaked out, only halfway to the bed now and not showing any sign of stopping, “remember hearing it a lot.” He kept talking to distract himself from the situation, acting as if the song that had already been replaced by another one truly was the thing that most interested him right now. “It’s fairly recent, ain’t it?”

That seemed to pull the god out of whatever trance they were having, as he startled and tightened the grip on Louis. He looked lost, looking around his face for answers he probably couldn’t find. Louis felt guilty, as if he had said something outrageous that deserved such a response.

“No,” the god finally whispered out, sounding as distressed as he felt as he went back to pulling Louis closer to him more urgently. “No it’s really not.” Louis landed on the bed in a heap, and the god immediately brought his hand up to trace his face. He was still eerily silent when he let out a “God, how long have you been there, petal?”

“I,” he opened his mouth to answer, then frowned when he couldn’t quite remember. He could swear he was keeping track. “I don’t know,” he concluded after a heavy silence, looking shocked at this revelation. He was the distressed one this time, gripping the hand that was still caressing his cheek and pleaded “I don’t remember, I can’t- I’ve lost it all, I thought- I thought keeping my name was enough, what am I supposed to do? I’m, I’m nothing, I-”

He was cut off in his rambling as suddenly as he was pressed against the chest he had way more contact with in a day than in the last six months. He didn’t mind, couldn’t possibly complain when lavender immediately calmed his racing thoughts and engulfed him in a familiar scent, a safe place in which he could let his feelings out. A sob escaped from his lips, and the dam was broken. He had wanted to avoid this exact situation so much, had worried sick about forgetting who he was and what made him Louis and becoming just another pawn whose soul had been taken by whoever was in power. Yet here he was, realising too late they had managed, they had striped him off of everything just to leave him a shell with a name he now wondered if he recalled right.

“You’re not nothing, you hear me?” the voice this time was strong, drilling into his skull straight from where it was produced, and Louis hiccuped in a failed attempt at concealing his cries. “You’re, you’re not nothing because you lack some memories or because you don’t know if you’re the right version of you right now. You’re not nothing, because you’re not defined by the basic information people associate with identity, but by your acts and what you make of life. You’re not nothing, you’re you, and to me-” a hand gripped his chin and lifted his head, forced him to look in the eyes of the man who was both calming and shaking him to his core, “to me you’re everything.” Louis felt faint, probably from how fast blood rushed to his face, but the words once again showed no sigh of deception and he couldn’t breathe properly for a whole other reason now. He hid his head back between the god’s pectorals when he got too overwhelmed, but that didn’t seem to deter him. “I can’t even imagine how it must be, to lose all sense of being to this place, but you haven’t, alright? You’re Ashimo, and-”

Louis mumbled, sound muffled to the point of non-recognition by how glued to the god’s skin his mouth was.

“What did you say?” said god requested, and Louis lifted his head of his own accord this time as he looked up at him.

“That’s not my name,” he repeated, and swallowed around the lump in his throat as he braced himself for what he as about to do. There was so much power held in a name, and he was about to give it out. “I’m not Ashimo,” he took a deep breath, and the admiration in the eyes he that looked at him, only him, ever and always, were the last push he needed. “I’m L-”

The last of his word were lost in the unbearingly loud bell noise that chimed from just above them, on the top of the building.

Louis jumped off the bed. His breath was choppy, and he had the distinct feeling one got after barely avoiding death. Shaking all over and a bit out of it from the intense experience he’d just lived. Only this time, he had been saved by the bell.

He tried not to dwell on the frustration showing in the tick of the god’s jaw, that resonated something in his brain that had been so relieved at finally letting out this piece of himself. Instead, he took the noise of the bell for what it was and walked backwards towards the door, scared of what would happen if he let the god out of his sight.

“I’m so sorry for my lack of professionalism just then,” he started with his usual customer voice, trying to placate the disarray of his own feelings at the same time and rubbing his wet cheeks. “I’ll be bringing your dinner soon and will then leave you for the night unless you request more of me.”

Before the god could take him up on his offer, or order him to abandon dinner so they could finish their conversation instead, he gripped the doorknob and evaded the room.

He was so screwed. Bitterly, he pondered aloud as he walked down the corridor why he was forgetting all these informations about himself, yet couldn’t even dream of forgetting anything about the god he tried his best to erase from his mind.

“Did he say anything to you?” was the first thing that left Louis’ mouth as Niall stepped on their balcony. 

He hadn’t even expected to say it, taken aback by his own bluntness, but by the sigh of his two friends the feeling wasn’t shared. Niall only shook his head before taking off his shirt and plopping down besides him. Louis had his legs dangling off the edge and his upper body supported by the bars in front of him, staring mindlessly at the lake under him. It had felt way more interesting while flying; now it was just a visual reminder of how stuck in this place he was.

He turned his head back to Niall as he laid down with a grunt, closing his eyes in what was probably pain due to being hunched all day - he had been sent to do the laundry, and Louis could only cringe in sympathy when he’d heard it. It was a true testament to how amazing Niall was that, after such a physically exhausting day, he had accepted to do this one last thing for Louis. Which reminded him of what he had promised as a reward, and brought Louis to pick the beer he had managed to steal from a too-drunk client earlier in the night. He handed it to Niall, who took it with a smile and immediately applied the coldest part of the jug to his left wrist.

“He didn’t say anything no,” Niall finally replied, and sat up just to take a sip. “Didn’t even seem surprised I was there instead of you, just let me off with a coin. That dude’s truly loaded like a pig, giving money left and right. Everyone’s lookin’ for an excuse to go in his room, know he’s generous,” he finished with a shrug and another sip.

Louis almost commented on how he would gladly trade places with anyone, but stopped himself before he could so he wouldn’t appear ungrateful. It would especially intrigue the people around them that eavesdropped on their conversation now that Louis had been framed as that guy a god and a demon fought for. Would certainly raise even more questions.

Instead, he lowly thanked Niall again and stuck his head between the bars, looking down on the city where lights were slowly turning off one by one. Soon enough, they would have to either go to sleep or be really sneaky so they wouldn’t get in trouble. Not much wasn’t regulated here, and Louis once again looked at Zayn’s wings longingly. He knew very well he wasn’t as free as they could make him appear, as Zayn himself liked to make himself seem. They were still a step closer to getting out of there whenever possible, or at least having the sensation of being free from shackles for a few minutes, long enough to feel the wind ruffle your feathers and enjoy the silence that came with not being ordered around.

He couldn’t possibly leave. As a human, the water surrounding their little island was just too great, he couldn’t even see any plot of land on the horizon when the sky was clear and he had hours to waste looking for them. Any sign there was something else beyond this river that felt like an ocean, something he could reach and long for. And yet, only the winged beings and the train commuters had the chance to explore places that weren’t their good old divine docking point.

His only thread of hope for a better, freer life was held in his name. It was the first thing Zayn had told him, the first thing he himself had lost before losing his entire being to this place. He told Louis to only let trusted people know his name, that in a place like this, it was a powerful tool. Louis had never known to what extent but he had never tested his luck. Nowadays, the only people who shared this valuable information with him were currently surrounding him; a caring hybrid and a lost human they had both looked after since he once appeared on the bridge.

Which was why the slip up he had avoided earlier had such a deep impact on him. The god already had too much power over him, seemed to have been holding Louis’ life in his palms from day one. He had lost sleep, hunger, will to carry on, the dullness that was the only thing preventing the pain from seeping in, and sanity at times over him; he couldn’t afford to give the last piece of himself to a being he only saw once in a blue moon and only cared for him for he was the only one to not comply to every single word that left his mouth. Louis wondered how long he would keep the charade that he cared before he got bored of this uninteresting human he had taken a liking to all those years ago. Louis thought it was long overdue by now.

He knew his revolve was incredibly thin, however. If green eyes looked at him just right once again - which they always did - he would cave in and lose himself completely so quick he wouldn’t even understand what happened before it was over. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to pick the shattered pieces of himself off the ground, and maybe on some more selfish level, he didn’t want this - whatever it was - to be over quite so soon. Didn’t really want it to ever stop, as it made him feel important and wanted and valued, even in the worst moments. Louis hated the situation, hated the god, but especially hated himself for loving the thrill they brought him.

So he had cowered out. Ran all the way down the stairs, stumbled into the overbearingly humid laundry room and begged Niall to be the one to bring dinner to the customer that evening. Niall had been reluctant, knowing full well what awaited them if word of it got out, but had accepted as soon as their eyes met. Louis didn’t quite want to know what he saw in them that could possibly make him give in so quickly, and didn't care much to be confronted with his feelings.

He had taken his place for the last clothes that had to be taken care of, accepting the hard floor under his knees and the cramp in his arm with relief as it always seemed better than whatever would await him back there. Thankfully, only humans had been assigned to the laundry that day, and they tended to support each other more than other beings. Louis didn’t even want to stop and think of the backstabbing he would have faced, no matter how much money he’d promised, had they been one of those octolimbed women in there. They truly were the worst companions, and if it weren’t for how useful someone with four arms could get, they would have most likely been banned from here. Louis shuddered at the thought of his last encounter with one of them.

As soon as the last of his work was done, he had ran back upstairs and hid on the balcony up until now. Zayn had joined him soon after, trying to engage him in mindless small talk, to no avail. The silence had probably been getting on his nerves, but Louis couldn’t find it in himself to keep up appearances, not before he slept off the day at least. It would take more than eight hours to do so.

Louis suddenly had a thought, and turned his head back to Niall, who was now lying his head on Zayn’s thigh and petting his wing. He hated to disrupt the easiness and calm on their faces, but had to know “What took you so long, then?”

“He tried to bribe me into telling him where you were staying,” he said with a shrug, but Louis felt as if he were falling down to his demise once again. Of course Niall woudn’t betray him like that, but still, he knew just how much money the god gave around, and even he could shamelessly admit he would consider the idea of divulging information if the price was high enough. “Always so cocky, these gods. Never seem to entertain the idea they may not be on the highest floor of the building.” He then turns to Louis and nudges him a bit before explaining that “Told him it was extremely confidential and couldn’t be revealed under any circumstance. He stopped some time after.”

Louis fell down onto his back and looked at the sky, the heavy sigh leaving his lips appearing as fog for just a second. He then took a deep breath and welcomed the prickle of the coldness in his lungs, feeling as if he had been stuck in a stuffy room all day and could finally, truly breathe.

“I love you so much, Daisu,” he said and turned to Niall, conveying just how grateful he felt before turning back to some distracted stargazing. “Owe you big time on this one.”

Niall shrugged him off immediately, telling him this beer was plenty good enough as a payback, and then went on to debate with Zayn about beer and wine. Not for the first time, Louis wondered what Zayn’s name really was, what he was doing before Louis arrived on this island, before he himself came here. Or maybe it was all he had ever known, maybe he was born there and raised there and just lost track of it as time never seemed to pass here. Days and nights meddling together and turning into weeks, months, years without anyone's realisation. He wondered if he and Niall had met, back when they were humans surrounded by other humans only, if they had been friends, if maybe they were meant to fall back in each other’s steps.

He looked at the stars twinkling and wondered if another pair of eyes was shining just like them, only a floor below. If something changed about them in Louis’ presence, and if they knew just how naked they could make him feel. He closed his eyes, and wished he could rein over his brain, if he had lost all control over his heart. His wish wasn’t granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> louis is such a dramatic gay oh my god  
bruce springsteen was my obsession during the holidays so i had to include him somewhere, i hope you enjoyed  
don't forget to kudo, comment, reblog the [ fic post ](https://quelquesetoiles.tumblr.com/post/187579506837/latibule-louis-had-worked-in-the-infamous-resort) or at the very least drink water  
(((ps. i stopped correcting this just to go and watch the kmm music video so just a friendly reminder to stream kill my mind please and thank you))))


	3. Day 2 - part 1

Louis took a deep breath, only slightly troubled by the scent of lavender at this point in time, and let it out slowly. His eyes were closed and stayed so until he reached ten in his head, which was enough time for him to curse his luck and wish things would go in his favour for once in his life.

The god, however, still had his eyebrows raised in challenge and his arms crossed over his naked chest - did he not know of clothes and being proper when in public? The problem, however, didn’t really lie there as much as in the fact he had purposefully been extremely difficult for the entirety of the morning.

Louis had woken up from a restless sleep to knots in his stomach, and had been wary but ready to face the day ahead of him. He had strutted over to the god’s chamber when the bell first rung, bringing him lunch and hoping he was asleep. Whoever was in charge of granting wishes was in a particularly foul mood these days, as they seem to take whatever Louis wanted and give him the exact opposite.

He had been met with the radiant and completely uncovered physique of the god, lying on his sheets next to dozens of lavender flowers. Louis wanted to screech.

Instead, he had walked to the table at the far end of the room and deposited the tray of meal there, as was the custom. This didn’t seem to satisfy the god, who demanded them to be brought to him. Louis complied, though reluctantly, and found himself having to cut every single piece of food in a certain way, before feeding them to the god one by one. It had been the thirty longest minutes of his life, his fingers always hitting if not getting stuck between the god’s lips, who only parted to let more food in and devilishly lustful sounds out. He had considered the idea of going a little to deep and trying to choke the god on his fingers, and the idea was what kept him going, ‘just one more minute’ at a time.

Eventually, as the plate was finished and Louis had to take care of everything in the room as the only worker here, he had the opportunity to walk out. Just to the end of the corridor, to put the dish in the appropriate box that slowly descended towards the kitchen. It was barely long enough for him to recollect himself and decide the best course of action would be to remain numb and unfazed by everything that would be thrown at him in the next fourteen hours. It was easier said than done, but if he could keep an unbothered exterior, he might be able to control his urge - murderous and others.

It might have worked better had this day not proven to test his patience time and time again. And by this day, he meant the increasingly ridiculous demands of the god he was working for.

As soon as he reentered the room, Louis was requested to bring him a book that detailed the entirety of the Norse mythology but focused more specifically on the women involved in it. This was already a hard task, but not impossible, if not for the added detail that he only wanted it in Catalan. Louis was unsure such a book existed in any and all dimension, but such was his mission and as long as he hadn’t checked them all one by one, he wasn’t allowed to make such a claim.

He checked every store, whether they sold books or not, every restaurant, every household that opened their door for him. No one possessed it, and Louis felt at the end of his line. He knew he could go back, say he hadn’t found it but could tell the god all he wanted to know about them, as he had the pleasure - or misfortune, at times - to have been in contact with all deities of the norse multiple times. The endgame would probably only be another ludicrous request sent his way, but Louis knew this would be seen as a loss from him. In the mental tally they both probably kept, the god already had a higher score than him. It was infuriating and made him want to slap him, once again. He didn’t know what would await him if he dared, the first time having been quite frankly justified. Some weird, unspoken competition that made little to no sense didn’t seem quite like a good justification.

He rounded the entirety of the village, even looked through bushes in case, magically, the sought-after-book would be laying there for no particular reason except making Louis’ life easier for once. It couldn’t be found anywhere, and no one had even heard something remotely close to it. When he told Zayn what was awaited of him as he crashed the hybrid’s late breakfast for a bit, all he received was a laugh and a good luck. Truly impossible task, that one, and Louis had to admit defeat.

He was slumped against the wall, facing the door he was supposed to go through five minutes ago, when it happened. He had just needed to catch his breath after pretty much running around for an hour straight, and was letting the biggest wave of disappointment as his failure ate away at him before he faced the god. Feeling as if this was just another score for his enemy and showing it to said enemy were two very distinct kind of embarrassments, one worse than the other.

“Are you alright there?” had come from above him, and he jumped up, worried of who had seen him in his frazzled state and what it would entail.

He was even more surprised once he saw Liam standing there, looking genuinely worried for the boy. Louis was left gaping at him, unable to form a proper response as he didn’t particularly want to lie, nor did he want to confide in his official pain in the ass’ friend and colleague.

“I-yeah,” he finally settled on, brushing away his fringe and determinedly not staring at Liam’s chest. He never really knew what Liam was the god of, and wondered if there was a god of exercise in the British mythology. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he had heard of, and it would certainly suit Liam.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, but carried on before Louis could actually answer. “You looked a bit, uh, sad? Is there anything I can help you with?”

Which.

Maybe Liam wasn’t a god. Maybe he was an angel. It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch, if he had enough powers, and would certainly explain the uncharacterestical kindness stemming from him. Gods weren’t all assholes, but none of them was good enough to offer help to someone who was only there to abide to all their desires. Except maybe for this one.

He was still trying to locate wings behind Liam’s back, not knowing enough about angels to know if they were retractable or not, by the time he finally responded “I don’t think so, I don’t think anyone except for Frigg herself could help me right now.”

“I can always try,” Liam said with a shrug and slipped down the wall next to him, getting on his level.

This was surreal. Louis had definitely been hit on the head during his search and was now in some weird comatose state where the barriers of normal were torn to shreds.

“Well,” Louis started with a snort once his initial incredulousness somewhat faded and he remembered his predicament, “except if you’ve got a copy of the history of women in the Norse mythology written in Catalan hidden in your shorts, it might be difficult for you to.”

“I do actually.”

Louis’ neck actually hurt from how fast he turned it at this sentence. He placed a hand on the place where the pain was the strongest gingerly, but was way more preoccupied by this answer. There was no way in hell. Liam was just mocking him. Maybe he was the god of deception, finally. Exercise and deception, could be both.

He pointedly looked back down at Liam’s short, embarrassingly enough still looking for any bump that could indicate the presence of such a book in them. It garnered a laugh from the god - angel? Celestial being.

“Not in my shorts, of course.” Liam explained, laughter still in his voice. He got up and started marching towards his own suite. “But I have it in my room, bought it in a library in Spain. Why d’you need it?”

Louis was flabbergasted, but proceeded to follow him after only a few seconds. This might still be a lie, but what did he have to lose, really?

“Har- I mean, my client asked me for it,” he corrected himself and hoped it hadn’t been too obvious.

“And this little shit didn’t bother telling you I had it all along?” Liam asked rhetorically while shaking his head.

Louis didn’t grace him with a response, and only sped up to be the one to open the door for the god. Old habits die hard, and he had already broken too many rules in a little over 24 hours to stop himself before he did it. Liam only thanked him anyway, not phased by the display of courtesy. It was a commonly accepted practice here, so it only made sense. Louis had just forgotten so, all because his client yesterday had done it for him the only time they passed a door together. He needed to get a grip.

As he stepped inside the room, he immediately fitted himself to the wall as to not disrupt anything, and looked back down. It was both a sign of respect as well as a precaution from Louis himself to not see things he really didn’t want to. Had happened one too many times in the past.

He only looked up when he heard Niall’s distinct voice say “Good morning sir, I am sorry to impose myself. I was told you would be away for a longer time. I can leave if you would rather.”

Niall was dressed in grey, and Louis quickly gathered he was of cleaning duty today. If he had been stuck to the upper floors, he would certainly be better off than whoever was in charge of the underground. Louis still longed to be down there rather than work with the devil in god’s clothing.

They exchanged a look when Niall also took notice of him, fleeting as they didn’t have time to delve in a conversation when they had both bothered a god to some extent.

“I’ll be gone right away, just needed to pick something up,” Liam shrugged him off as he walked towards a small duffel bag. “You can continue as if I’m not there, Daisuke.”

Both humans were surprised at the fact Liam knew Niall’s name. Or, what was his name as far as he was concerned. This, and the fact he seemed to have quite the collection of human knick-knacks in his beaten down bag - that had most likely been bought from some human store as well - was extremely confusing. Louis couldn’t pinpoint what Liam could possibly be in order for his actions to make sense.

By the face Niall still wore as he went back to making the bed, Louis guessed they would be discussing it at a later time.

For now, Liam was marching towards him with a self-satisfied glint in his eyes and a thick paperback in hand. His heart plummeted through his chest and he barely resisted the urge to jump into Liam’s arms and thank him profusely. This was key to victory.

“Thank you so much deus, this is,” Louis lost track of thought as the book was now in his hands and he could see it was exactly what he had been looking for for so long. He looked back up towards Liam, who was beaming right back at him, and Louis wished he could have fallen in love with this god instead.

The weight of this thought only hit him after Liam accompanied him to his friend’s door and they parted ways with some last grateful words from Louis. In a moment of weakness, as his guards were down, he had admitted to himself he was in love. In love with the worst possible kind, someone out of his league who had only been toying with him for years now. Someone he could never possibly have.

Ripping his heart out of his chest and stomping on it would hurt less.

Louis knocked on the door in a moment of rage against himself and the unfairness of it all, and entered the room with a clouded mind and shaky hands once prompted. He headed straight to the desk were the epicentre to his turmoil was sat. The book hit the wood with a satisfying clank, but even the look of surprise on the god’s face didn’t feel good anymore. All he could think was ‘Why can’t you leave nor can you stay? Why can’t you hurt me once and for all, and then leave me to rot instead of taunting me every time things look up? Who allowed you to get so deeply under my skin, my entire body feels yours now?’

“Where did you get this?” he received, instead of an answer to any of his question. He turned around under the pretence of going back to close the door, and used that moment to wipe under his eyes. He couldn’t let himself break down, no matter what epic conclusion he had come to only a minute ago.

“A kind god I chatted with happened to own it and decided to lend it to me,” Louis replied easily once he was sure his voice wouldn’t break, and closed the barrier between him and the rest of his miserable life. He was still deciding if it was worse out or inside.

“In what world do you casually talk to Liam?” The god sounded completely incredulous, and that managed to send a spark of satisfaction in Louis’ heart. He truly had tried to set him to fail.

“I have my way with handsome gods,” Louis shrugged and turned back around, not quite in the formal position but close enough to it he wouldn’t be called out.

“Yeah,” the god snorted, which was quite the amusing thought. Gods could do such undesirable, human things as well. He then added, “I would know.”

“Why? You’ve been talking to Apollo?” Louis asked innocently, knowing full well what that would create. It was terribly, selfishly human of him to want to hurt consciously the one who only did it without realising.

He couldn’t truly know how inconspicuous his feelings had been to the god, and as such didn’t know if he truly wasn’t guilty in his current situation. What he could know, however, was how annoyed the thought of Louis with another god made him. He still wondered if Apollo and him had been in a quarrel of sorts recently, or if it really only was some unnecessary jealousy talking.

“Should I?” he asked with bite in his tone, and Louis barely suppressed a shiver as he got up. For the god of flowers and whatever other soft thing he was, he could look well and truly intimidating. “What happened between you and Apollo, petal?” he asked again with pure bitterness in that last nickname

Apollo had slapped his ass, once, and asked if Louis could do him a certain kind of favour. The memory of it was enough to bring heat to his cheeks, and he looked down in shame quickly before looking right back into angry eyes. He didn’t know if the shame was at the fact he had considered it, or that he had refused solely because the thought of doing it with anyone that wasn’t the individual standing in front of him right now made him sick.

It wasn’t unheard of, though humans weren’t the one who received this request the most. Still, Louis seemingly had some sort of appeal to him that made a lot of customers believe they could touch him as they wanted or ask such things of him. Doctor Simon certainly wasn’t one to defend them, which was yet another reason for them to stick together.

His lack of response and visibly affected state at the recall of those memories seemed like enough answer for the god to reach out to him. Louis dodged it by taking a step back and tried to compose himself.

“What would you like of me, deus?” he asked politely, this time the poster child of professionalism. It seemed to only frustrate the god more, who advanced towards him.

“I want you to answer the question.” His voice was deep but calm, as if he had to rein all his emotions in not to have an outburst. If Louis was a weaker man, he would have complied at a tone that left no room for argument.

“I am in no obligation to answer any sort of personal matter, and our client’s privacy is of much value to us.” Whenever the god would take a step forward, Louis took a step back. He tried to remain impassive except for his feeble attempt at an escape.

“Human, stop with this bullshit and answer me.” It was a warning.

“I do not have to share information I do not care to and-”

“You work for me!” the god finally roared out, to which Louis jumped. By the surroundings he could see in his peripheral vision, his main focus being his hunter, he could tell he was getting dangerously close to the end of the room. “You’re under my command, aren’t you? I’m paying you to do as I ask, and I fucking asked you to answer, so you will answer.”

Louis hit the wall on the last word, and was left to gulp. He couldn’t show he was scared, or it would only be used to further push him to back down.

“I am here to service you,” he said in a placating voice, but he hoped his eyes conveyed all the defiance he wanted to let out. “However, answering private questions isn’t part of my requirements. As such, you can _not_ force me to answer your inquiry.”

“Oh baby,” the god said condescendingly as he reached him, looking down at his prey. “I can do whatever the hell I want.”

Louis wanted to snap the fingers that reached out and caressed his cheek, but the shiver that took over his body told a story different from whatever his tongue could say. He let his gaze fall down, eyelids dropping of their own accord, before he looked back up with fire in his eyes.

“You can wrest my tongue from my mouth, but you can’t rip words out of my throat.”

Neither of them backed down, glaring at each other and chests colliding on every intake of breath. The digits on his face reached his mouth, and for a second Louis wondered if he would have his tongue taken out because of his impudence. Instead, they softened the pout of his bottom lip, the touch soon followed with a longing stare.

Louis opened his mouth once he found himself admiring the eyelashes of the god, which only proceeded to get his thumb to hit his tongue. He pretended as if it was of no effect to him, even as blood rushed south, and asked “How may I help you now, deus?”

“Say my name,” he requested with a strained voice and an earnest look, and Louis gulped because he had no good excuse not to.

“I would rather address you with a more formal title.” He carried on soon before the god could protest, and the damn thumb was still hovering extremely close to his mouth “What else?”

He seemed to take the hint as he stepped back with a sigh, enough so they didn’t have to breathe the same air anymore but not enough that it wasn’t completely tainted with the smell of lavender. At least, Louis could wear his own uniform tomorrow, seeing as both his and Niall’s would reek of the flowery scent.

“I would like some soil and a small container, preferably a jar,” he finally obliged with a defeated sigh. That was two win for Louis, and he could finally breathe easier, especially as this task wasn’t hard at all. “Add blue parchment and ink to this, as well as a candle and a needle.” That made it slightly more difficult, but still manageable. “Oh, and if you happen to pass a witch, tell her to come and visit me. And a new disc for music would be quite enjoyable as well, I can only listen to so much Bruce Springsteen. Something British would be quite lovely.” he finished off with a grin, then turned around.

Louis clenched his fists but nodded nonetheless, letting out an ‘Of course, deus’ he didn’t quite believe in. Seemed like he would have some running around to do, yet again.

“Thank you sweetheart, I’ll certainly put in a good word to how easily you comply to orders you’re given.”

If Louis showed him a specific finger as his back was turned, no one had to know.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it anyway, as he was supposed to do all this, preferably before lunch. Preferably meaning absolutely.

Which brought them to their current situation. It hadn’t taken quite as long as he had assumed to find and bring back the objects he was on an errand for, and it seemed like the god had expected the task to be more difficult as well. It was just that, after visiting every single place in the town twice in the last two days, he was starting to gather where different things were at.

Louis had been sent on another ludicrous quest while the god and the witch were left to talking to together, and by the time he had come back with three living butterflies in a box he had to capture himself, the god was writing god knows what and only asked for him to now deposit them on some lilac after touching each of them once. Whilst doing it, he had met a lovely, but quite talkative sylph who had followed him around on his search for lilac and helped him free the butterflies in a safe manner. The sylph was also more knowledgeable than Louis, and had shiny eyes when he’d heard who this mission was done for. Louis had thus learned he was working for the British god of flowers and fertility, which explained the whole butterfly situation, before hearing countless retelling of his supposed doings. Louis had patiently listened to everything, feeling unexplainably proud at hearing the miracles the god had offered to desperate people. Then, when he heard the bell ringing lunch he excused himself, telling the sylph he had been lovely company. It seemed like the right thing to say, as he beamed and flew away with kind words thrown Louis’ way. He could have had worst company.

Lunch had come and gone, at least once Louis remembered he had to run to get there on time. He barely had time to eat his own portion before he had to serve the god, who had only taken a bite out of a carrot before he had sent Louis to buy him clothes.

If by the end of the god’s stay he couldn’t swim to the next island and back, he didn’t understand.

And then, he had entered the room with shirts, pants and underwear alike only to be confronted with a shirtless vision of the god. He didn’t quite understand why he had to buy such a wardrobe if the god seemed perfectly content in his natural attire.

Nonetheless, he had placed his cargo in different drawers, pointedly not looking at him yet. Whatever else was in store for him could wait, and it couldn’t be worse than what had already been asked of him, had he stupidly thought.

It was much worse. It was the reason he had to try and calm the bubbling anger in his stomach, the reason for the god’s challenging posture, as if daring to deny him one more time today.

“I won’t,” Louis finally answered, and crossed his own arms defensively. “We have other people here, who can and will fulfil your request. However, I am not one of them.”

“I don’t want any geisha,” the god replied with a snarl, and Louis couldn’t contain his sigh.

“Actually geishas don’t offer sexual favours at all, it is a common misconception a lot of the people staying here have which we are still confused about,” he explained for what felt like the hundred time. It might have been.

“I don’t care what name you give them, I am not interested,” he dismissed Louis and broke his defensive posture so he could walk towards he bathroom.

Louis, for some reason that was beyond his own comprehension, decided to follow him and continue the conversation when he could have just as well let it slide. His stupidity amazed him at times.

“Then you will have to do without, I’m afraid,” he said when the god reached the sink and started washing the ink off his hands. Louis wondered for a second what could possibly be so important or personal he had preferred to do it himself rather than request for a crow.

“Listen, honey,” the reply was full of patience, the way voices got when explaining something difficult to grasp to a child. Louis swallowed down the bitterness he felt tickling his throat, the one that always came when being met with condescension. It never went away. “I don’t expect you to understand this,” there it was, “but as a god of fertility, I do have certain needs that should be fulfilled.”

“Then, if they are _needs_,” Louis put air quotes around the term, “as you so call them, you wouldn’t see any objection with fulfilling them with professionals. You should be thrilled, even, to be catered to by such expert hands.”

It made sense, right? And even if the god disagreed, he didn’t have much choice. Louis wouldn’t sleep with him, nor would he go around asking for anyone who wasn’t the people specifically employed for it to do so. A burning lead settled in his stomach at the thought of anyone touching what he so regretfully loved, but he wasn’t naive enough to believe it hadn’t happened before more times than he could even dare imagine.

He was doing a fairly good job at feigning indifference at the prospect, even as the god walked towards him.

“I do believe I am in the right to chose who I bed,” he said coldly.

“And I am not?” Louis shot back in the same tone.

This time, the stand off wasn’t much of one, the god shrugging after a second and going back to the sink. Louis blinked in shock at the easiness with which it was over, and went back to the room as soon as he saw pants hit the ground.

He was passing the threshold when he heard “Call three geishas for me.”

He hid behind the anger at the term used to not acknowledge the hurt the sentence brought him.

This was it. The moment the god had grown tired of him and this perpetual chasing game, the moment he gave up.

It didn’t feel like a victory at all.

Finding three willing yūjos hadn’t been that hard, which wasn’t of much surprise. This specific god did have quite the reputation here, which greatly helped. Louis wished it wasn’t the case, but life wasn’t easy on you when you were so stubborn.

They had taken a few minutes to get ready, two humans, male and female, and a woman of vila descent. Louis found it hard to look away from her, and wondered if she was the subject of jealousy from her peers. While she obviously wasn’t one of the beautiful nymphs that roamed earth and other places, her link to one of those was evident in her magnetic charm and her unnatural beauty. Louis felt especially small and stale when walking besides her towards the god’s room.

His envy didn’t render him careless nor heartless. He took the trip to the fourth floor as a way to ensure everyone’s safety.

“Whilst I do not doubt your ability to defend yourself and each other if need be, I just want to remind you I will be staying close in case anything occurs that you are not comfortable with or find dangerous,” he told each of them in a stern tone, making it clear how important it was to him.

“Thank you for looking for us, Ashimo,” the vila hesitated before exchanging glances with the other two, who only nodded, “but how exactly do you believe you can protect us in such a case?”

“I have my ways,” Louis settled.

It wasn’t untrue, but they didn’t need to know the only person he had ever fought had been Zayn in training. Nor that a big part of his plan consisted of screaming out his name so it would distract the god long enough. He doubted it would have to be put to use anyway, but better be safe than sorry.

Louis knocked on the door and looked back to the three beautiful creatures standing beside him. At least, his client would definitely be satisfied. It was all he could wish for at this point anyway. Or at least, realistically. If he forgot the unlikeliness of it all, he could always wish he would be chosen over them.

Once instructed to, he opened the door and let them walk in before him. His presence was only a formality, but still necessary to ensure their session would be a good one. It didn’t matter he felt he could choke on the lump in his throat, as he was only here for work purposes.

“Deus, I have your company with me,” Louis announced as he uselessly pointed to the three people, the god’s gaze already solely focused on them. It stung, but he powered through so he could leave sooner “If they are of your taste, I will leave you four alone until I am ordered by you to come back.”

“You may leave, Ashimo.”

Louis didn’t miss how utterly bored he sounded, and craved for his eyes to fall upon him again. He knew it wouldn’t happen and that he needed to rid himself of these absurd desires before they could blossom into more, taking roots in the pit of his stomach and blooming right in his lungs. They would only choke him with their strength and leave him empty once cut.

He turned on his heels and let the door slam closed behind him. For as much running as he had done today, his only thought right now was to do it once more, run for as long and as far as he could possibly make it, and then some more. Run with the water slowing him down and the current backtracking him, but pushing through, in despair or determination.

He couldn’t abandon his duties and, more importantly, his people. So, he took a sit in front of the white door and waited.

He had come to the conclusion it was worse outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please insult me it adds two years to my life


	4. Day 2 - part 2

Time, a concept ever so relative, always seemed to pass slower when waiting for something. Louis knew so, and accepted that two minutes would feel like an hour in such a situation. He was bracing himself for what would probably some very painful moments that would feel eternal and yet would represent nothing in the grand scheme of his existence.

It was all the more surprising when the door slammed open and he felt, even in this peculiar headspace where the sand of time seemed to trickle ridiculously slowly, that it was a bit too soon for the session to be over. He couldn’t really know how long he’d been waiting, deciding against the idea of counting the seconds, yet could tell it hadn’t been hours. Merely a few minutes, if that.

To make matters worse, the anger on the vila’s face as she stared at him was completely unexpected. He worried for a second that they had called for his help and he had been too busy in his own head to notice.

It wasn’t a case of anger forged in betrayal or disappointment, though. It came from something that creatures like Vilas held very dearly in their hearts, as he recognised from the way she purposefully held herself higher and more attractively.

One way or another, Louis had hurt her ego.

He scrambled to his feet, reaching out to her so he could understand. However, she just huffed and passed him, nose held in the air to show him how much better she thought she was. Louis couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed when he was this confused.

The humans followed, looking better if not a little wounded. The boy sent Louis an apologetic smile and trotted towards the vila, probably to tame her before they encountered other people and she lashed at one of them in the way only a nymph could do. The girl, however, approached him with furrowed brows.

“Listen, I don’t really know if he put you up to this, but that wasn’t cool. I thought you were better than this.”

With a disappointed look, she turned her back to him as well and walked away.

What the hell had happened in there for them all to be so mad at him? What could he have possibly done to hurt them, when all he had done was stand outside the room in silent contemplation?

He barged inside the room, ready to demand answers. He couldn’t possibly be at fault, but he knew who would. It was just a matter of getting to the bottom of the actual events.

“What did you do?” he asked immediately. The god didn’t even flinch, just kept admiring a painting on the wall in front of him.

His upper half was still undressed, but while Louis had expected of him to lose his last piece of clothing, he had added pants over them. His back was muscular, something Louis had found he always liked, loving the mesmerising movements of rippling muscles under smooth skin. Still, he couldn’t even bother to care because this vision meant he wasn’t even turning around, just showing him his back as if he couldn’t care less.

“I asked-”

“I heard,” the god cut him short, still not turning around. “You told me they would be keeping me company if they were of my taste.” A shrug, and “They weren’t. So I told them.”

“Why, why didn’t you just tell me when I introduced them?” Louis furrowed his brows, getting a headache at the pure nonsense of everyone’s reasoning around here. At this, the god did turn to look at him.

“I wanted to give them a chance, I suppose,” he explained nonchalantly, and walked towards Louis. “They weren’t too pleased, kept asking me what they could do so I would be satisfied.”

"That doesn’t explain why they were so mad at me," Louis wondered aloud.

It wasn’t like he needed everyone to like him, but working in such a place was already hard without adding employees holding grudges. They were in this hell hole together, and had to do their best to support each other.

“That’s because I snapped and told them they could only try and look like you, and then maybe I would consider them as potential partners.”

Louis snapped his gaze back up, finding the god way closer than he had originally been. He probably looked like a fish, staring with wide eyes and an open mouth, but he couldn’t help himself. This wasn’t what he had expected at all, and now everything made more sense. He was lost between a feeling of anger, confusion and flattery, none managing to overthrow the other. It took him a few seconds to find the use of his voice again.

“You can’t- Harry, you can’t just say that,” he whispered, not knowing how he meant it himself.

Could he not say that to others, because it would only cause trouble to Louis? Or could he not say that to him, as it would only set free the butterflies in his stomach at the thought that maybe, just maybe, these words could be genuine?

He didn’t have much time to ponder over it, as a smile took over his interlocutor’s face that was a more pressing matter. It wasn’t much of a happy situation, so there were no reason for such a reaction.

“You said my name,” he giddily pointed out, which. Oh.

He had. By accident, maybe, but still he had.

“I, it won’t happen again deus, I-” Louis tried to justify, to escape, but a hand on his mouth stopped him.

“None of that deus shit, not now,” he protested, but he was still too happy for it to sound really threatening. “I have a name and you know it and I want to hear you say it again and again until it doesn’t sound real anymore.”

And, there really was no point of trying to keep the flow in once the dam was broken. So Louis nodded, and the hand slipped from his mouth. The smile on Harry’s face only grew, the dimples Louis adored coming full force, and Louis had to bite his lower lip to keep himself from smiling just as hard at that sight alone.

Harry’s eyes fell down to his lip and back to his eyes once, twice, and the atmosphere changed. The air was suddenly charged, the space between them not enough and abysmal at the same time, and Louis was at a loss at his next move. He couldn’t find it in himself to walk away once more. Not when he had finally admitted his feelings to himself, when he had allowed the god’s name to slip his lips. He couldn’t deny the access to his body when he had let Harry find his way back to Louis’ mind and soul.

Their faces moved closer, Louis feeling like his centre of gravity was Harry. This time, he embraced the smell of lavender, the feel of their breaths hitting each other in an imitation of what their lips would do, the rabid pace of his heart.

Only, instead of lips touching lips, the kiss went to his cheek. So tender it made Louis ache, but still a press of lips against the wrong part.

He opened his mouth to question when Harry pulled back, scared they weren’t on the same wavelength and Louis had gotten excited too quickly. The pad Harry’s finger brushed his lower lip, and he threw that thought out the window.

This time, he wasn’t the first to step away. The god walked back to where he had been standing, picking up a shirt Louis hadn’t realised was lying on the floor. He put it on with no explanation, moving to the door while buttoning it up.

“I’d like to visit the town, will you be my guide?” Harry asked casually, as if he hadn’t just prematurely stopped what shaped up to be the best moment of Louis’ life.

When all he was met with was silence, he did turn back to acknowledge Louis. His thoughts were most likely clear on his face once again, or the god had mind reading abilities, as he walked back with a light chuckle to grip the confused boy’s jaw, the other hand settling in his hair.

“Don’t worry love, we will kiss,” he reassured him firstly with a rub behind his right ear. “I just don’t kiss people I don’t know, Ashimo.”

The smirk on his face did nothing to lessen the clear implication that came with the emphasis on his name. Louis felt outraged. This was only a ploy to get him to reveal his name, no interest coming from the god except for his ever-living curiosity.

Just as he geared up to give Harry a piece of his mind and probably lose his job, he felt it. The reason why he had rubbed this specific spot.

He brought his hand up to his ear, taking the stem delicately between two fingers, and bringing the flower down to his eyes. There was something unlocking in his brain at the view of this lavender, something that wasn’t just emotion at receiving a gift. It rung deep inside his mind, as if setting a light to something he once knew, hidden behind a thick cloth but still ever so perceptible.

It felt like a promise.

Harry’s eyes were full of wonder and anticipation as they met his, but Louis didn’t know. Couldn’t remember anything aside from that there was something to remember, that this meant something to them.

Still, he put the flower back where it was and nodded.

No words were needed as he took Harry’s hands and guided him down the corridor and into the elevator. Louis may not understand exactly what his actions entailed, but this was bigger than language had found ways to explain, and they were content in bathing in this indescribable feeling as they were.

Louis knew it all depended on him now. For once in longer than his fragile memory could conjure up, the outcome solely rested on his choices, his words. He wasn’t quite sure if he liked the feeling just yet.

They were getting weird looks in the street. While not uncommon for a servant to guide a god through the city, something in their demeanour must have sold them to the intuitive people. Maybe it was the flower standing proud in Louis’ hair, or how their bodies walked too close to appear like a professional relationship.

Or maybe it was how Harry’s favourite spot, when they would stop in front of stands or look through windows, was behind Louis, head on his shoulder. He was so goddamn transparent, Louis wondered if his true intention was to get him killed.

He had tried to move away from him, to put some much needed distance so they wouldn’t give the townspeople false ideas. That only motivated Harry to get closer, bolder, clingier. Louis could only pretend it bothered him so much when the flush of his cheeks were only half from embarrassment.

They were walking down the main road, Louis pointing to the establishments they passed and saying random facts about them, as he would with any other customer. Harry hummed, greeting the other deities they passed but doing his best to avoid the spirits. Louis, however, acknowledged everyone, with more or less formality, as there weren’t much living beings in this town he hadn’t encountered at least once. His multiple running arounds and questions in the past few days made sure that number lowered to zero.

“Are you hungry, little one?” Harry asked as they passed a specific restaurant Louis never lingered in front of for too long.

It was well known here that the only people allowed to eat at this place were spirits of nature, as the cook considered those the purest and only worthy beings. A god of flowers could probably pass, but a human certainly not.

Louis had heard stories of people trying to trick the cook into feeding them, or trying to steal the food that just laid there, just waiting for people to dive right in. It had never ended well, some people even saying that a couple of humans who ventured in once, a long time ago, was transformed into pigs. Though it was accepted as a fact, the story had been passed down so many times, no one knew accurately what happened. Still, it didn’t seem worth the risk, especially as humans tended to be seen as the ones on the bottom of the chain because of their lack of supernatural abilities.

The shake of his head was rendered useless as another waft of the incredible smelling food reached him, and his stomach reacted appropriately. The noise gave away that Louis had only eaten a quick snack for a meal and was feeling the consequences of this choice.

“You can eat here if you’d like, but I would rather grab something at another place,” he stated with another shake of his head, deciding there was no point in lying.

“Nonsense!” Harry replied and took his hand, dragging him to the stand. “We’re already here, and it looks heavenly, so we’re eating here.”

He pushed the back of his feet into the dirt path, halting their movements. Harry turned towards him with a raised brow, and Louis shook his head again. Before they could start and argue about it, Louis yanked on his hand so the god was closer and he could explain the matter more privately.

“It’s not safe, Harry, at least not for me.” A disbelieving raise of an eyebrow made him huff and launch himself into as much of an explanation as he could afford. “It isn’t made for humans, alright? Whoever’s in the kitchen doesn’t like us, and has probably put something in there that makes it dangerous for someone like me to digest. Who knows what could happen.”

Harry looked like he wanted to scoff right in his face. He probably thought Louis was making bullshit up just to avoid this, and who could blame him? The human didn’t have a clear record when it came to lying to his face, no matter how unbelievable it was.

There must have been something on his face, however, that told him this wasn’t just a bunch of hastily made up stories for the sake of being difficult. There must have, because Harry brought his skeptical stance down and brought Louis’ hand to his face. He kissed his knuckle, his green eyes boring into blue ones, and Louis felt dizzy. Why did he always have to take his breath away with silly actions?

“You’re safe with me,” the god whispered and applied light pressure on his hand, as if it would put more weight on his words as well. He didn’t move an inch as he asked “You trust me?”

And Louis, ever so powerless, could only nod. He didn’t event take the time to ponder it, ask himself if he really could trust Harry when he had learnt the extent of his powers only today. It didn’t matter, it seemed, as his decision had already been made deep down and only waited to be revealed at the right opportunity. The more time passed, the more Louis wondered if he had any control left over his body.

The small gesture was satisfactory, as Harry smiled and took a step back, not dropping Louis’ hand. Falling into steps with him felt too natural, just like being this casually intimate had. Not for the first time, Louis wondered if maybe they were star-crossed lovers. If they would keep meeting, dancing around each other, submitting to the pull that always brought them together, only to have to separate again. Doomed to never be more than a temporary home for the other, one they could never settle in and bask in the comfort of. If someone up there was looking at them, at this everlasting battle between giving in and protecting themselves, and laughed joyfully.

Or maybe he was the only one battling now, he thought as he looked at Harry’s face. Maybe he had been the only one fighting the possibility of more for a long time. Or worse, maybe he was the only one entertaining this idea, and he was just projecting his own feelings and thoughts onto an unassuming god.

His concentration was only bursted when the mouth he’d been so intently staring at, as if trying to control it so it would land itself where he desperately wanted it, begun moving. It appeared Harry was introducing himself to the infamous owner, and Louis wanted nothing more than to disappear into the earth so he could escape whatever awkward moment was awaiting them.

“I do know of you, deus,” the cook said in a voice that Louis had never heard, sounding charmed and pleased. “It would be a honour to have you at my table.”

“Thank you, Ogino-San,” Harry replied with a smile, his body more radiant as he turned on his charms. He went to take a seat on one of the stools, but Louis stayed rooted to the spot as the pleased cook went back to his natural contempt when focusing on him.

“And about him?” he asked coldly, not hiding his distaste. Louis wanted to eat there even less, truly afraid of what could happen to him if he dared try.

“He’s eating here with me,” Harry said with a shrug, sliding his arm around Louis’ waist and bringing him to his side. It visibly displeased the cook, who got ready to shot him down politely. Before he could, the god added “Ashimo here is my mate, and as such should receive the same treatment I do.”

And Louis was, once again, stunned to silence. He felt like it was a much too frequent occurrence these days, but at least he wasn’t the only one in this case this time. Both he and the cook stared at Harry who had begun collecting food, looking as comfortable as ever. As if he hadn’t just said something huge and blatantly untrue, that could cause a humongous amount of trouble to Louis. However, he couldn’t bother fearing for his life when these words had just officially tied them together. Gods didn’t use the term of mates as easily as other creatures did; it was a once in a lifetime case, something that would last until the end of times.

Pure, scorching hope burned him alive, and yet he had never felt so good in his life. Because he wasn’t alone in his feelings, and maybe they had a chance, and he wouldn’t have to live his entire life divided between waiting on a god and trying to get him out of his system. He could kiss those lips, touch this back, smell lavender without feeling guilty, without the looming threat of the moment it would all be over.

Harry, on his part, looked to be the picture of calm. But Louis knew him better, had spent days studying him and months trying to erase him from where he seemed tattooed on his eyelids, torturing him every night. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, as if he really wanted to smile but couldn’t do it without giving himself away. Louis knew this look very well, maybe better than any other despite only encountering it a few times. The circumstances in which he’d encountered it seemed to be the one that would play on a loop in his mind the most.

He had seen it when Harry pinned him to a wall that very first time under the pretence of an incoming danger. It had been there when he had brought a woman with him and made vague comments on who she was to him, until the very last minute before he left and revealed it was actually his sister. It had been there when he had told Louis to come meet him at midnight so they would leave this place together in secret, only for Louis to find an empty room. It had even been there the next time, where Louis took one look at him and slapped him, as if that could do anything other than burn his hand for trying to hit a much more powerful being.

It was the look when he was fucking with Louis, fucking with his mind just for the sake of God-knows-what. And just like every other time, Louis felt the dagger in his heart get a bit deeper and the tears in his eyes start to well up.

Somehow, this was the worst of all those times.

He didn’t even take a second to think, didn’t care about how this would look and how much his life was ruined just because once, too many moons ago, he had attracted the interest of the most abominable god out there who decided to make him his toy for the rest of eternity. It didn’t even matter everyone in the village would hear of this and talk about it, all until it reached Doctor Simon’s ears, who would ban him right away in fear of what Harry would do if he was still his owner. It didn’t matter his death sentence had basically been pronounced just as those lies left the god’s mouth. It didn’t even matter how disappointed in Harry he was, for making him touch his dream only to rip it from his hands, didn’t matter that the pain he was feeling was so big he was physically hurting.

What hurt the most is that he had failed himself. He had been so convinced he would be able to protect himself, had promised it time and time again. He didn’t have anyone but himself, at the end of the day. Not in this world, not when everyone was desperate and would leave at the first chance of better they got. Hell, Louis was ready to leave his entire friends, the people he considered family, just so he could be free of this hell and, more importantly, happy. The only person he could rely on was himself, and he was so cautious as to not get tricked, anything so he could stay in one piece and hope for salvation some day. And yet, it had taken pretty eyes and prettier lies to make him completely give himself away, with no regard to the danger he was putting himself in.

Humans truly were the weakest race.

It had always been a saying that made him bitter, whenever it would leave someone’s mouth or be hinted at in the way they would look and behave with him. He’d been treated as weak for what felt like his entire life, and had worked hard to get rid of that shameful shadow, always there to remind him and everyone else he wasn’t one of _theirs_, that he had only landed in this place through unfortunate circumstances and was staying because he wasn’t enough to do otherwise. Not good enough, not strong enough, not smart enough, not powerful enough, never anything more than a muppet that could find himself being useful from time to time.

'Humans arrive by accident, stay by weakness, and leave by meeting.' It was true about life as much as it was true about this place.

To fight this predisposition everyone thought he possessed, he had learnt everything there is to learn about the different spirits and deities that roamed this place, so he would never be out of his depth. He had taken tasks that weren’t fit for him, that would be too draining on a human body, and completed them repeatedly until they were perfect, so no one could say he wasn’t strong. He never complained, even when he had to work for five days straight with only five hours to rest each day, a rhythm that had broken everyone except for goblins in the past. He had dealt with everything thrown his way with a head held high and built a shield around himself, piece by piece, so no one could ever reach him again. He had proven to everyone, starting with himself, that he was more than enough, that a human could be better than any other being because they had free will and could go up and beyond if they fought for it. He had proven that his lack of wings, fins, telepathic abilities, incredible charm and any other magic out and inside him, wasn’t a weakness. That a breakable body and a shorter lifespan and a lack of expertise didn’t mean he was worth any less than the other populating this island and all the different worlds.

Now, he understood that what truly made humans the weakest race was the overpowering of their emotions. They could get so gullible, as long as they saw what they liked, just like they could be in extraordinary denial if faced with news they couldn’t bear. Their emotions were their fuel just as much as they were their downfall, and Louis was just now grasping this in its entirety. There was something so deeply irrational in humans’ mind, that caused their demise.

This time he was the one thinking those hurtful words, repeating them over and over so maybe they would overpower the pain of the betrayal.

Louis was only another stupid human, one of many others who had been tricked in the past by their peers or various creatures. He had thought, after all he had put himself through, he had been better than them and would never let himself be enough of a fool to ever feel disappointment. Just like Icarus, he had been doomed by his own hubris, only his story was much more pathetic.

And because he was only human, he dealt with this tsunami of feelings the way he only knew how, his most human reaction he had never been able to even remotely control.

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it goes wrong, but then it rights itself, but then it goes wrong again, and i'm here cackling madly while writing this roller coaster of stupidity and lack of communication. it's like every french book i had to read through high school.  
(also that bit about humans is just a redo of a quote by Sartre because I've had to sit through too many philosophy classes not to make references every once in a while)


	5. Day 2 - part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of self-harm in the second half of this chapter, especially strong from “The god never asked again” to “crusade to break Louis down.”

He took off as soon as Harry turned towards him, not wanting to deal with the laughter he would throw in his face. He ran as if putting distance between them was a remedy to the feelings he had, even though it had been proven time and time again it wasn’t in the slightest. He ran until his legs hurt and the tears on his face could pass off as being from the sharp sting of the wind and he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. And because life was fond of torturing him to no end, he finally broke down right in the middle of the field of flowers.

He fell to his knees, feeling tiny rocks scraping them and all the air in his body leave it from the impact, and then he surged forward and cried. He hadn’t let tears escape his eyes in years, and yet this was the second time in the matter of two days. And the god couldn’t even be blamed, as the only wrongdoing of his was bringing to light how much Louis had let himself down. All his fears were coming alive, all the things he had fought so hard against were catching up to him, and he was realising it much too late.

He didn’t have an identity, all of it locked away in some shadowed part of his traitorous brain, and he didn’t have his dignity anymore either, had lost all he had spent so long building the second he had believed the words said to him instead of taking them for what they had always been : tools to an end, to him revealing who he actually was.

He was nothing but flesh and an aching heart, as he had nothing to do, no one to pretend to be, nowhere to go. It had all been striped away from him, and it had been done with his unspoken consent.

And so he cried, breathing in the smell of dirt on the rare occasions he managed to let some air in through his unrelenting sobs. He didn’t have anyone to whisper comforting words in his hair this time, no arms to ground him and remind him he wasn’t alone. Because he was well and truly alone, and he was now confronted with that fact, couldn’t deny it any longer. He repeated to himself time and time again he had no one to fall back upon and that’s why he needed to always keep steady, but he stopped actually believing it when he had received care and affection from others. Just another mistake to add onto the ever growing pile.

In a moment of clarity, as the last few days played in his mind like a cathartic spectacle, he remembered what was available to him right now and could help, if a little. He got up and stumbled haphazardly for a few steps, with no need for more as he had fortunately stopped barely a few metres away from what he had been looking for.

He fell back down in the middle of lavenders, taking the one that was still in his hair delicately and holding it between his palms. His hands were trembling but he didn’t damage it, not even as he laid down in a ball, making himself as small as possible and letting his cries free again.

He didn’t have any more reason to prevent himself from this small solace, the last piece of Harry he had, the only he owned compared to the thousands the god possessed of Louis. It couldn’t get much worse than it was, and he had already failed to look after himself so much, one more wouldn’t matter.

___

Louis woke up confused, not knowing if his sleep had been perturbed by the pounding headache he sported or the chill slipping through his clothes because of the wind. He hadn’t even realised he had fallen asleep, his body must have shut down from the exhaustion that crying brought, or as a way to stop his pain. It had worked, as he felt numb. Even the hard ground he was lying on didn’t break his state of general emptiness.

In his hand, the lavender laid intact, and Louis let an amused huff escape at that sight. Even in this state, he had still been careful with it, didn’t want to lose that as well. 

He put it in his breast pocket, right over his heart. No one would notice it, but he would know it was right where it belonged.

He looked up then, noticing the sky wasn’t it’s usual vibrant blue but tiptoed on pinker territories. He assumed he had been there for the late afternoon, which was terribly unprofessional but it wasn’t as if his work ethics had been respected a lot in the last few days.

Still, he wasn’t fond of freezing to death in a field, and decided to walk back to his place of work. If he hadn’t already been fired. 

As he heard the telltale sound of the train getting ready to depart, he considered taking it. He obviously didn’t have a ticket, as they were extremely rare and difficult for an employee to get ahold of them, but he could always try and find a way to get in secretly. It wasn’t his first time entertaining the idea, though it had never felt like the only viable solution before.

Worst case scenario, he got caught and killed. He doubted they killed for so little, but for the sake of being dramatic he considered it. What then ? He would be dead soon anyway. Whether it be from jealous townspeople wanting to take revenge, gods wanting to punish him – as somehow this would end up his fault – or because he lost all his belongings as well as his only source of income and died a slow, lonely and painful death. Being killed for fighting for better sounded like heaven, compared to his other choices.

He was still walking down the path, knowing that whatever road he ended up taking, they only parted right before the bridge that led to the hotel. It might have been too short a walk if he hadn’t been so sure he would be getting on this train before it left.

“Ashimo!” he heard called out, the voice clearly coming from in front of him.

He snapped his head up and halted his steps, taken aback by it. He thought, prayed even, it had only been conjured by his idiotic brain.

It hadn’t. Harry was walking towards him, clearly frazzled though Louis couldn’t pinpoint an exact emotion on him. Angry? Scared? Relieved? Even the god didn’t seem to know, as he reached him and swayed, as if conflicted over his next course of action. His arm raised to be at level with Louis’ cheek, and he feared he would be beaten, so he took an instictive stepback. 

“What do you want?” Louis asked, unafraid as he no longer had any expectation nor any desire except for freedom.

“I,” Harry gulped and brought his arm down, but his voice held a tremor to it that didn’t go undetected despite his attempt at looking put together. He settled on “I want to know why you ran away.”

Louis was incredulous. Was this a real question? Judging by Harry’s pleading look, it was. He wondered if it was a case of not having a brain or a heart that could possibly leave him at a loss to where he went wrong. Though, Louis guessed he hadn’t done much wrong in his mind anyway, and it was merely his human tendencies that had brought out of proportion what had probably always clearly been a game in his god’s brain.

He closed his eyes tightly before finding the courage to actually look at Harry and, patiently even though he felt anything but, explained “You lied back there, only you did it on an incredibly important matter. Not only is what you claimed dangerous for me and my living condition,” he took a deep breath and got ready to be honest for once in his life – nothing to lose anymore “it deeply hurt me that you could treat such a, an idea I hold dear to my heart, as if it were trivial and worth joking about.” He took a step forward, taking the flower out of his pocket. “I don’t understand what this means, why it feels important to me – but it does. And with you giving it to me, I just, I guess I assumed there was something there, something bigger than myself I couldn’t yet comprehend but it didn’t matter because you would be there to guide me through it.” He shook his head and laughed bitterly, looking down at the purple petals and pretending they weren’t becoming blurry. “But it was all a game to you, it always has been. And that’s fine, I’m the fool who dreamt of bigger than he would ever get. I’m the one who did this to myself, because why on Earth would someone like you, care for me more than a kid does his used-to-be-favorite toy?” 

“Love, it’s not-” the god tried, but Louis didn’t want any more sweet talking. He looked up at him and owned the tears that were pooling in his eyes, the tremble of his lip, his voice, his hands.

“I don’t care for a justification, all I want is for you to own up to what you did, and to see what all your years of playing with me did. To realise that while it must have been so much fun, making one of those pathetic little humans fall for you over and over again through the years, watching them go through the entire spectrum of emotions because of your actions, that is what happens to those humans afterwards. Because I’m not the only one, am I?”

“Of course you are, how can you even-” Harry exclaimed way more fiercely, but Louis could only laugh. And so he did, a wet laugh, the kind that came when you were so distressed your body needed to bring some dopamine back into your system. 

“Oh no I am not, Harry. And wanna know why?” He looked up at him though he couldn’t see him through the wet curtain in the slit of his eyes, bright smile on his face though it was more in self-mocking than in actual joy. “Because I know you – you personally but also you gods, how it always goes – and I’m just like the rest of them. I am irrevocably, madly, painfully in love with you, Harry.” He let out another laugh at that, but this time out of how absolutely freeing it was to speak those words. It helped that he still had no idea what Harry’s reaction was, couldn’t see a thing through the stream that had only stopped for as long as he slept. He carried on, because the silence was starting to weigh down on them and that he might as well let it all out while he still could, “So in love, I was ready to give my entire life to you. I would have let you do anything and everything, as long as it meant I got to keep you with me forever. The only – oh god this is so embarassing now, but – the only thing preventing me from giving you my name, all those times, was because I was so deeply afraid you would leave right as you knew it. I couldn’t bear to see you go, and so as selfish as it is, I kept you with me through your undying curiosity.” And as his walls were down and he allowed himself to do all he wanted, he brought his hand up and caressed Harry’s cheek with the palm of his hand, taking the time to enjoy the heat and pulse of the skin beneath his as it would be his last chance to. With a small smile and a whisper, he admitted “I should have let you go all this time ago, isn’t that true? You destroyed me, yet I still wish I treated you better.”

“Ashimo,” Harry sounded desperate this time, “will you just-”

“Wait.”

“No! You had your time to speak, but you need to know Ash, and I deserve to explain my-”

Louis scrunched his face, which troubled Harry to the point where he stumbled over his words before effectively shutting up. Soon, his confusion turned into anger.

“Are you seriously doing this? Can you just not be a brat for a-”

Louis put his hand over his mouth forcefully and looked around. They were in the main street, though not in the most populated area. 

And then he heard it. The terrible, daunting bell. This time again, he knew full well for what case it was ringing.

“Oh no,” he turned his gaze back towards a very perplexed Harry, though he couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t understood yet. “There’s an Okusare-sama.”

“A what?” was all Harry had the time to let out before the pungent smell that had barely been noticeable before turned overwhelming and gag-inducing. 

The god didn’t need many more explanations after that, or at least Louis didn’t bother trying and giving them to him. Instead, he grabbed his hand and started running to the hotel, knowing it really was the only place that could bring them an actual escape. Had they reacted sooner, they might have been able to hide in a shop, only now they were all closed as to prevent the smell from entering their stores and destroying their property. 

They were met with only closed doors and drawn curtains as they got nearer to the hotel, the only place that had its gates wide open. Louis hoped the Okusare-sama was still far enough for them to get in and not have a face to face encounter, or that it had already got in and was being tended to. He doubted it, as the alarm was still ringing and the smell wasn’t getting much worse as they neared the entrance.

Still, whatever situation he may be faced with, he jumped on the bridge and ignored the lightness he felt when stepping on it for the first time ever, powering through so they could reach Harry’s chamber soon. He also knew that he might be called in to help, and couldn’t well be reported missing then. Whatever the workers were doing at that time, when the alarm rang, they were to be present and ready to help.

He saw the Stink Spirit from the corner of his eyes and took on his last remaining energy to sprint to the hall. He could see it, see the running about of his colleagues and hear the screeches of Doctor Simon. No matter how hard he tried, in those moments he well and truly looked like his predecessor Yubaba. 

Suddenly, he wasn’t dragging a weight but being dragged as Harry finally reacted and took off in his actual speed. Louis had a hard time keeping up, but at least they should arrive well before the spirit. 

“Ashimo!” he heard even before he stepped a foot inside the place.

Simon was standing in the hall, looking out towards the entrance. His bark came with a panicked look on his face, and Louis knew full well what would be asked of him. He was the one generally tending the Stink Spirit, explaining his quicker-than-most realisation of one’s arrival. It came from his attitude years ago, when he was still trying to prove himself and took the worst jobs willingly and with no complaint. He would deal with all of them with a determination that came from his need for better, and a smile that would learn to never falter. With time, even when he deemed it unnecessary to keep putting himself through these unpleasant situations as he had earned as much respect as he could ever get, both the clients and the management were used to this being one of his numerous specialities and they always expected and appointed him to be in charge of them. 

It was a consequence of his own actions, so he accepted – not like he had much choice anyway, as he would be severely punished for his refusal. The bruises and scars on his sides and legs were a long-lasting reminder.

It was part of the reason why he had hoped to be here sooner, thinking he might have been able to get lost in the sea of running creatures and disappear to Harry’s room, avoiding the call. He truly should have learnt by now hope was a dangerous thing.

Because he had no other choice, he let Harry’s hand slip away from his and diverted his path so he would be standing in front of his boss. He bowed and kept his head down, really didn’t feel like being hit for being defiant on this day. Simon had given up on trying to force him not to look him in the eyes if unprompted, but if his patience was wearing thin he would take it out on whoever he felt he rightfully could.

“Where were you?” he spat out, not giving Louis time to answer before he started ranting “You truly are useless, never there when we need you. As if I can’t get rid of you right on the spot. Always been an arrogant little human, you should have learnt your lesson by-”

“He was with me actually,” Harry chimed in from where he appeared next to him, voice cold. 

Both were startled, only now noticing the presence of the god, who had spoken up right as the alarm stopped ringing. Louis was pleading him with his eyes not to get involved, to just leave and go hide in his room. He had done more than enough already. 

Simon, for his part, was flustered and scrambled for apologies. “I’m so sorry deus, I-I didn’t know, I didn’t mean to disrespect you. Only, I need A-”

“Ashimo, you’re coming back with me,” Harry cut him off for the second time. He was still looking at Doctor Simon even when addressing Louis, as if defying him to not comply to his every wishes. 

A beat passed, and Simon looked torn between abiding by his best customer’s demands, or insisting to have his best element helping him.

The smell became more proeminent suddenly, and a thump on the stairs behind them was a clear indication that the spirit had reached the threshold. There was no time left for pondering, and Harry gave a courtesy nod before walking to the elevator, a hand on Louis’ back to make sure he would accompany him. He probably knew Louis would have otherwise taken care of the spirit, feeling like he’d rather handle the foul odour than whatever was awaiting him once he was alone with the god again. The memory of all he had confessed was making his heart beat anxiously and he wondered if he could get away with trying to jump out the window again.

Being in such a small space with Harry was the worst possible outcome to this, but he had no other choice as they started ascending to the fourth floor. Thankfully, their conversation was postponed by the presence of a frog, though the way Harry’s eyes never left his face were clear enough indication Louis wasn’t off the hook yet.

He was trying to prepare himself by making assumptions as to what Harry could probably want to say to him. He couldn’t come to a satisfying conclusion, as it didn’t make sense except if he would be trying to toy with Louis’ heart again. He had gone through the pain of slapping the god once, he would do it again.

The air felt so thick, Louis expected to breathe a little easier when the doors finally opened. The relief was short-lived, as he remembered this was just making him closer to his doom as soon as Harry got out and forced him to follow with the hand on his back. Once again, he was left thinking this place wasn’t nearly big enough, only because it seemed he always got back to room 4.1 before he felt ready. His brain unhelpfully suplied that he wouldn’t ever be ready anyway.

As he caught himself breathing quicker, he tried and rationalise. He had nothing to lose. No matter what was awaiting him behind that door, no matter what would be happening five, ten or thirty minutes from now, it didn’t matter anymore. His fate had been sealed by his own doing, his word vomit back on that beat down path. He had hit rock bottom earlier in the day, he couldn’t very well dig deeper.

Oddly enough, to remembrance of the disastrous state of his life and how it went completely and utterly out of hand actually did reassure him.

He was more ready to face Harry now, which was perfectly timed as he was pushed inside the room a second later. He let himself be blinded by the excessive amount of white once again, as it was the last time he would get to admire this. As much as he hated this place, it held fond memories in the midst of all the terrible ones. Some part of him would long for it until his dying breath, for it was a portal to happier times.

He got entranced by a sculpture of two people on the verge of kissing, the marble somehow capturing the tenderness of the moments and the fond in their features perfectly. He had never paid it much mind, as it wasn’t as intricate as the paintings that he held dear to his heart, but right now it looked like all he wanted and more. Delicate hands caressing his cheeks, loving eyes staring into his, and the magnetic pull of two pairs of lips. So simple, but weren’t all the important things in life?

Harry brought him out of his thoughts with a hand on his wrist, tugging him further into the room. Louis let himself be dragged, didn’t feel the desire nor the force to fight it. It would be pointless anyway, just like all his actions in the past. All leading to this moment, the one he had nightmares about, the one were his illusions were shattered and the bearer of his happiness reminded him Louis meant nothing to him. 

Louis wondered if he had a knack for tragedies, or if his life was always supposed to be one and his character had adapted to it. 

He was forcefully brought down, sat on an armchair at a corner of the room, and probably expected to look up to Harry. Instead, he looked towards the wall blankly, waiting for the slap – physical or metaphorical, only time would tell. Some twisted part of him was hoping for physical, as the scar he would then bear would at least always be visible, for him and others to see and never forget.

Instead, Harry took a step back and walked away. Louis was confused and hadn’t been able to help the movement of his head, curious to know what the god was up to. He wished he’d been strong enough to let him do his thing without a care in the world, that his sadness – just like most his feelings – didn’t seem dependent on whether he had Harry’s attention or not. 

Just like most time, he could only see Harry’s back, hunched to pick things up from the desk and his own suitcase. Louis had no idea what he was doing but didn’t have much to do besides wait patiently to be acknowledge again. He wasn’t sure he was particularly excited for that to happen. He would be fine being left alone for a while.

On the verge of absolute collapse, he was feeling pretty numb. There was some longing, lodged somewhere deep down in his heart, and he assumed fear and pain were waiting in his unconscious to be freed and take over his body. Yet, no matter how bad he knew the situation to be, it seemed he couldn’t bring himself to care for it. Probably for how out of control it felt, as it had all already been said and done.

He felt stuck in a loop, living the same events over and over and ressassing the same thoughts each time. It was all the sadder, realising his lack of evolution, be it over the course of a day or of all the decades he had spent in this place. 

He had let himself drown all this time, in his routine and in his repetitive thoughts and in this life he thought he was making better but that was only making him worse. All he had gained now was that he was too damp for a spark.

He wished he was actually, completely and utterly void, as he hated the clear knowledge of the slight thrum of hope making his heart carry on its rythmic beat. It was all he had left, something so stupid he wished he was strong enough to throw it away, to stop his reckless wishing for more. It had only ever brought him bad or worse, and yet.

Yet, not even his self-protective mind could tame it down.

His eyes had gone unfocused as he lost himself in his thoughts, and it took him too long to understand Harry was in front of him. Louis’ eyes were at the right level to take notice of the stack of jar in the god’s arms, but his gaze was brought up before he could assess what it all was by a call of his alias.

“Take of your shirt,” Harry demanded when their eyes met, and Louis just blinked slowly back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t make me do it myself Ashimo, I’m not in the mood,” he replied coldly.

Louis was so confused, not only by the odd request but also by how much Harry had been referring to him by his fake name. Usually, when by themselves, Harry would only call him some sort of pet name, and using ‘Ashimo’ always seemed to be particularly painful to him, never felt right when leaving his mouth. It was too odd, too forced, too full of frustration, of grief at times. It was yet another sign of the growing distance between them, which didn’t help in explaining why he was meant to undress. 

Harry may be far from perfect, have flaws that make him a right prick at times and make all the violent thoughts Louis hold tightly within his clutch surge out just with a few words, but he would never force himself on someone – never force himself on Louis. It wasn’t an empiric kind of knowledge, he had no reason to be so sure of this affirmation, but he wasn’t scared of being violated in that sense.

He could well decide to do something else to his body, some physical dammage to take revenge or whatever other reason a god can come up with to justify his wrongdoings.

Harry set down the jars with an annoyed huff, but Louis quickly grabbed his shirt and pushed it over his head. It might be the only cloth he gets to keep once thrown out, he didn’t much fancy having it torn.

As his head popped out of the shirt, he was first hit by the room that suddenly felt much colder without something to cover him. He didn’t have much time to dwell on the painful raise of goosebumps all over his upper body, as he noticed Harry’s dark eyes soon after. 

They weren’t dark from lust or any form of desire though, as he had always secretly hoped they would be the day he would first reveal his body to him – as it had always felt inevitable to him that it would happen. Instead, they seemed angry, and his tense body and clenched jaw seemed to support this idea. His eyes were moving around, as if there was too much to take note of before he could truly settle somewhere, and Louis grew uneasy until they finally stopped on his right side.

He followed the gaze, and mentally scolded himself for not remembering and being too inside his own head to understand this entire interaction.

There, staring right back at him, was the worst bruise of them all. There were some all over his body, in various shapes, colours and sizes. This was one of the most recent ones though. He had gotten it barely three days ago and it was a painful reminder of what he should have learnt so long ago but couldn’t seem to get stuck in his stupid brain. It probably had something to do with the fact he was so used to the dull, constant pain, he was able to work past it most of the time. If he had stopped and shattered at every beating he had gotten from Doctor Simon, he would have gotten kicked out of this place much earlier.

Still, he had always been careful not to show any marks of his punishments to Harry. The god had seen one, a very long time ago, as Louis bent down and his shirt rode up just enough to show a long, fresh scar on his hip. It had been put there with the blade of a small but sharp knife and, most importantly, by Louis himself. 

Harry hadn’t bought that when he had laid Louis down on the very bed that was currently a few feet away from them. He had done it at such a speed Louis had taken a good ten seconds to understand where exactly he was, and that was just long enough for Harry to lift his shirt completely and start inspecting it. It was early in their relationship – if one could call whatever they had that – maybe the second of third time they saw each other, and Louis hadn’t expected much, maybe a question as to why it was there and then another scar to go with it once he would explain. A punishment for disobeying, or for getting a punishment in the first place. He was focused more on the feel of the god who had been haunting his dreams pinning him to the bed, his sole focus on dumb little human Louis. It was making his heart go wild and his body tremble from the onslaught of stimuli he got.

It was also the first time Louis had taken a good sniff at the ever so present smell of lavender, the one that never left him afterwards.

Harry hadn’t taken advantage of his weakened state, most likely didn’t understand how this simple action had reduced a still-learning-Louis to a mess of feelings and wanting to please him in any way possible. This urge to do whatever was asked of him by Harry never truly went away, but Louis had learnt to lock it far from light of day a long time ago. It was especially strong back then, as he was new to this world and was taken aback by everything around him, not quite understanding this was his reality now.

Still, he had been asked what this scar was, and Louis had simply replied by saying he had cut himself. He didn’t have the energy to reply with actual, long and well thought out sentences, so he stuck to the bare minimum and tried to stay in touch with reality by taking a strong hold of the linen under his palms. He felt himself slipping away, but Zayn’s voice telling him how dangerous it was to be at a god’s mercy kept him afloat. He didn’t want to, didn’t understand how something that felt so good could possibly be harmful, but he trusted Zayn and fought to not let himself be envelopped in the sweet flower scent and the heat coming off from the god.

He knew it was a normal reaction for a human in close viscinity of a god to feel a bit lighter and out of their mind, had felt it for himself from the get go and had it confirmed to him by Zayn and other humans later on. Their power had this effect on everyone, but it was especially bad for humans as they weren’t used to auras in the first place. And the closer they were to a divine being, the worst it was. This need to just obey them, let themselves be completely under their control, was a powerful and essential tool for gods’ work, but it wasn’t always used with anyone other than their’s best interests in mind. 

It was all the more surprising when Harry accused him of lying. Louis couldn’t, even if he wanted to, even with his small grasp on sanity left. He had gotten so worked up, telling the god he was indeed the one to take a knife and give himself this scar, because he was given the choice between this or something Louis really didn’t want to do by Doctor Simon, that he used the last of his energy and blacked out after. 

When he had woken up, still in bed and feeling extremely off, there was no more scar and no more Harry. Zayn, with surprise evident in his tone, explained to Louis that the god must have used his powers to heal him, one way or another, but that also marked Louis as in debt of him, which was never good.

The next time Louis was called to serve Harry was much later, and Louis had gotten used to life around these parts and wasn’t as naive and in awe as he had been at the very beginning. He was still flustered around Harry, but even then, all it had taken was for Harry to demand to check his hip as soon as he saw him to know he wouldn’t show him his scars ever again.

The god never asked again why Louis had done it, and Louis never told him it was so he wouldn’t have to satisfy Min’s needs, much like Harry had asked of him earlier today. Doctor Simon hadn’t taken his first disobedience all too well : when he had received a negative answer to his request for Louis to go see the god of fertility, reproduction and lettuce, he had told him it was either this, or he had to physically impair himself.

Louis had picked up the knife that was thrown at him at this sentence, looked straight at Simon’s victorious smirk and lifted his shirt enough to press the blade to his fragile skin and drag it down. He had only stopped when Simon looked angry and defeated and sent him out of his office. This event had been the beginning of their rocky relationship, and more so Simon’s crusade to break Louis down.

How sad he would be at not being the one to throw the final blow.

Suddenly, Harry was on his knees in front of him. He had carefully avoided the jars on his way down, and was now ruffling through them. Louis shot off the chair, standing up right in front of him.

Having Harry stare at him unimpressed from where he’s right at Louis’ crotch level shouldn’t look as sinful as it does. If anything, he should probably be horrified by such a nonplussed look in a situation that had been a recurring theme in the dreams he didn’t think about and that didn’t end like this one would.

Which was with Louis bolting out of there as soon as he regained control over his limbs.

“Ashimo, sit down,” Harry said with a calm voice. That name again, it made Louis’ skin crawl and his lack of compliance even worse.

“Don’t touch me,” he shot back, but his voice was trembling.

He couldn’t owe more to the god and couldn’t accept to be ruined by his touch again. He didn’t know what he would do if he felt his fingers roam around his body to rid him of his ecchymosis and other more permanent scars. He didn’t know if he would be able to come back from the submissive headspace he would be put under. It wasn’t worth the risk.

“I said,” Harry’s voice didn’t show any of the patience it usually held, but Louis wouldn’t obey when he repeated “sit down.”

“No.”

Defiant, defiant, defiant.

He hadn’t planned for Harry to take ahold of his thigh and push it until Louis had no choice but to fall backwards. 

“I don’t want to force you to obey, so don’t push me,” Harry said with his grip not relenting on Louis’ leg, holding him in place, but he barely looked at him before fumbling with the closest container again. Louis wanted to cry out of frustration.

With one hand, he put some yellow flowers in an empty bowl, followed by what Louis smelled to be parsley, and mixed them together with his hand. Louis stared back at the hand holding tightly onto his thigh, and wondered if Harry realised he would most likely be leaving a bruise as well.

By the time he looked back at the bowl, a weird sort of gel was sitting there untouched. Louis wondered just what was put in there, as he couldn’t see how some flowers and herbs would make this. 

As Harry’s fingers plunged in it to gather some, he remembered just who he was dealing with. The reason why a god would possibly kneel in front of a human and take care of them went beyond his comprehension.

“Why are you doing this?” he caught himself wondering aloud, but he didn’t expect a reply. Doubted the god himself really grasped why.

“Because you’re hurt and I can help with it, so why wouldn’t I?” Harry replied distractedly as if it were obvious, still rubbing the gel between his fingers before focusing back on the nasty bruise on Louis’ ribs.

“Because I’m nothing but a servant?” Louis asked back more than replied to Harry’s rethorical question, but it still made him pause in his movement to apply his mixture on Louis’ side.

Finally, Harry looked at him. Their eyes met, and Louis found a comfort in there he didn’t want to dwell on. He couldn’t seem to get a read of Harry’s thoughts though, which was an odd feeling. Usually, there was some level of recognition there, he didn’t necessarily understand every intricacy of his mind, but he had a general feel of where the god stood.

He felt out of reach in a way he had never felt, not even when they had first met, and that was scarier than any thought of what the near future had in store for him could be.

Harry sighed and looked back down at the bruise, finally breaking the lingering distance and putting some off white creme on Louis’ skin. It didn’t feel like an agreement nor a denial of what Louis said, and so he swallowed his hurt and focused on the heat coming off from where Harry’s fingers were pressing down on his ribs. 

The first and only time he had been healed, he hadn’t felt it in his haze. Now, he could feel the tingling sensation telling him it wasn’t any normal mixture being applied to his body, that there was some magic leaving from the god’s fingertips straight to Louis’ insides. It took some time before Louis could visibly see the fading of both the pain and the colour of the mark, and he didn’t know how many minutes had passed by the time Harry moved to a bruise near his belly button.

He let out a hiss at the sensation, feeling exceptionally sensitive there today. The lack of distraction, in visual or audible form, didn’t help his case in the slightest. He was forced to cope with the weight of the silence, the shivers and spout of electricity in his body, the vision of Harry looking after him.

It bordered on too much by the time the silence was broken.

“You never were nothing but a servant, and you certainly haven’t started today,” Harry stated, which made Louis jump a bit, but the hand still gripping his thigh was quick to settle him back down. He gulped, ready to protest, but Harry, ever so intuitive, took this as his cue to explain his thoughts while still treating Louis’ wounds: “You don’t remember much from our first meetings, I assume. Even if you did, you were too inexperienced back then to understand all that was going on,” he looked up at this, just long enough to stare at Louis while saying “You still are.”

Louis huffed at this, going to cross his arms over his chest but Harry’s elbow shot out to block his right arm, and he was reminded of his current predicament. Trying to control his own body right now would be fruitless, so he sighed and sagged against the back of the chair. This powerplay between them had gotten old about five minutes into their first meeting, but it was a truth of life he couldn’t fight. He would, forever and always, be at Harry and any other deity’s mercy for as long as they cared for him to. It was only slightly depressing.

“I don’t blame you for your ignorance, as I doubt I would do much better if I were in your shoes,” Harry continued, and Louis let out a scoff and a sarcastical ‘well thank you, how grand of you’ that went ignored. It was still satisfying to let out. “You may have not even noticed you are missing parts of your memory – or, at least until yesterday I assume,” he did sound apologetic at that, which Louis appreciated even though all fault went to himself. “But, haven’t you ever found yourself wondering why I always come back to you? Why I smell of lavender, out of all the other plants I have power over? Why, even if your memory is fragile at times, I am the thing you remember the most of even though I’m only in your life for short periods of time? Why you have this pull towards me, even years after it should have worn off?”

Louis found himself blushing all the way down to his neck at all this knowledge Harry seemingly possessed of his most intimate thoughts. It was hard to deny following this obvious bodily reaction, but he still had answers ready for all these. They had been running through his mind at a frequent pace for what felt like the last century of his life.

“You come back to me because I do not bow down to you and, instead of finding it disrespectful and inflicting pain on me, you feel it is a challenge. Your smell of lavender is of your own choice, and I assumed it must have some emotional meaning to you that made you want to carry it with you in all moments of your life.” He stopped for a second, long enough to remember the last two questions, but also to notice the minstrations had stopped even though Harry’s hand was still laying on his lower stomach. “I do not recall the last two inquiries in their exact terms, but I assume the answer to both of them must be my complete annoyance at everything you do and are.”

Harry let out a disbelieving chuckle at that, and Louis wished his stomach hadn’t clenched in pleasure at having done that, so it would have gone at least unnoticed. With a light smile on his lip, Harry moved to another bruise, this time on his calf. 

“All your answers are true to some extent, which brings me to believe I was right to be in awe of your intelligence for this entire time,” Harry admitted, and it sounded genuine so Louis let himself believe the words. “Whilst your defiance is indeed a guilty pleasure of mine, as well as particularly amusing at times, it is not the sole reason I cannot stay away from you. And lavender holding a place dear to my heart is indeed true, though I feel you forgot you’re the one who put it there.”

“How so?” Louis asked, but his mind suddenly wandered to that lavender jumper he kept at the bottom of his drawer, pulling it out on cold nights and lonely days. He had never been able to pin point exactly where it came from, especially as the years went by and most things were swept out of his mind. He had always assumed it to be part of the set of clothes he had gotten to this island with, the only part of his old self he had managed to keep. Maybe not, he realised now, though the seed of doubt had been planted in his brain without any further information to help him get to the truth. 

“The first and only other time we were in this position – do you remember it?” Louis nodded and bit his lip in shame, not enjoying to recall such a vulnerable time of his past. “You probably believe you passed out at some point, as even I had presumed back then. You went silent and still for a minute, but you got to talking again as soon as I started treating your scar – much like I am going to do as soon as this last bruise is worked through,” he warned with a tense voice and moved higher up again, as he had steadily been doing during this talk. Louis tried not to feel faint from the touch on his sensitive inner thighs and mostly succceeded thanks to his curiosity. “First, you explained to me exactly what had happened with Simon, and how it wasn’t a rare occurrence for him to give out punishment in various forms, though it had been the worst so far.”

“You- you knew?” Louis had to ask, as he was baffled. He thought he had been hiding a secret for so long, and yet all he was doing was useless denial by ignoring something they both knew the existence of.

“Of course I did, love, or did you believe me to be completely daft?” Harry asked back, though not unkindly, but Louis was mainly taken aback by the sudden comeback of the pet name. Maybe some progress was made, especially as Harry smiled big enough for his dimple to show once again. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. But that wasn’t the part that stuck to me the most, as once you were done justifying yourself, you started rambling about lavender.”

Louis was suddenly mortified, before even knowing what the content of his ramblings had been. He had been fighting a losing battle since the beginning, and not because of anyone but his incoherent past self. He wasn’t sure he even wanted more information.

“Firstly, you told me how I reminded you of a lavender, for no particular reason, just that the feeling you got from them was the same you got from me – it was your favorite flower, mind you.” It seemed like, whether he wanted it or not, his knowledge of his own embarassing actions would be extended today. “You even confessed to take one out of the array of plants I brought on my first visit, and told me it was now faded but saved in a book you had found. One whose title was conveniently The Flowers of Evil, though I doubt you thought of me as lowly back then as you do now.” 

Louis still owned this book, had hidden it and kept it for a reason unbeknownst to him, even as he hadn’t opened it in incredibly long. Maybe ever, if not for the supposed flower held in there. 

Harry lifted his hand away, and Louis’ body held now no colour besides its usual beige and occasional streaks of white, scars he had gathered for so long and hadn’t ever really faded. Harry seemed to notice them too, as he got another jar from the floor. When he opened it, the liquid inside gave out all its odour. As soon as the realisation hit him that it was pure lavender, he looked back towards the god, who wasn’t looking at him but processing his body again, as if gauging where to start.

He settled on the scar closest to him, on his outer thigh all the way down to his knee, and got back to rubbing as he said “It may seem completely silly now, but back then this cemented the idea in my mind that you were my mate.” Louis couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath at this or the falter of his legs, but Harry acted utterly unperturbed in both acts and words. “Lavender were in my favorites as well, though I didn’t held them so close to me – literally – as I do now. Also, I had a lavender jumper, one I had bought on an impulse and wore ildly when I wanted to feel closer to the people I work for – as clothes are neither of much use nor habbit for anyone besides humans.” Louis felt numb as he finally got his answer and he was faced with knowledge rather than beliefs for the first time in so long. Harry looked at him and seemingly gathered what was processing in Louis’ mind, as he squeezed Louis’ flesh to get his attention and confirmed what had been strongly implied “I put it on you before I left. I needed to give you this piece of me after you gave me your honesty and affection.”

He looked back down, moving to a scar on Louis’ left hip, who was almost entirely sure the red tint of the god’s cheekbones were due to a blush. He wanted to caress it, tell Harry there was nothing to be bashful about, but he felt still too out of the loop to go through with it. The warmth and electricity coming from where Harry was working his magic certainly didn’t help, though he seemed not to stick in one place as long as before. 

“I also gave you another lavender, the next time I saw you. You refused – I am still unsure why – but the rejection was worth the sight of your pleasantly surprised face and rosy cheeks. Anything was worth those soft instants where you would be unguarded and all I received from you were sweet smiles and fond eyes.” Louis was staring at him, a little open-mouthed and a lot dreamy, wishing he was so at ease in confessing his passion. Harry was still focused on ridding his body of all traces of past pains, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind his hands. “The only delicacy I have not been graced with is one of your laughs, which is a daily and deep regret of mine.”

Louis couldn’t help himself this time and brought his hands up, hiding his face in them. He was burning up, he could feel. This felt like it was straight out of the fantasy he used to indulge in, years back, and that would catch up to him every once in a while. How could his luck turn so much for him to hear what he craved for so long? It still felt much too good to be true, like something was waiting to set him right back into the harsh reality right around the corner.

“If it is your wish, I will leave you. I won’t make any more attempts at contacting and convincing you of our tangled fates. It will hurt me, more than it will you, as your pain would only last so long as you live,” Harry rambled on even if he hadn’t been acknowledged yet. He finished off with a pat to Louis’ knees, going back to looking straight at him this time. Louis could only concentrate on his eyes and the places their bodies connected. “But I won’t impose myself on you. I did, for longer than any of us can really recall and feel, but only for so long as you ignored the truth. The cards are now on the table for you to see if you play with me, or leave the game.”

“So,” Louis hooked on the smallest, tiniest, most ridiculous smudge in this seemingly flawless offer, “this is all a game?”

“It is not,” Harry replied sternly and tightened his hold for a few seconds in what seemed to be an uncontrollable manner. His face then softened, as his voice when he said “I am in love with you, sweet creature, more than I even thought possible when I learnt of the existence of mates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please do not kill me for stopping the chapter there, it gets interesting in the next one but i couldn't just publish one that was twice the length of all the others  
also hi i have no idea what happened to my writing in this one i am confused too do not worry


	6. Day 2 - part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be mild smut...  
(dedicated to Marynel, lovely human as well as the reason this is posted so early)

Louis felt overwhelmed with a need he had never encountered before. He hadn’t been blind to Harry’s charms for all these years, and he would be nothing short of a liar if he said all his thoughts had been pure in nature. He had dreamed of being defiled by the god in ways he generally felt ashamed of soon after the pleasure wore off.

However, it had never taken over his body quite so vigorously, leaving him to lightly shake with supressed urges. All his desires were colliding, against each other and against his instinctual restraint. He had been guarded around Harry for so many years that behaving freely on things so personnal was an alien concept, even if soon to be his reality. He wanted to finally grace his lips, but the resurgeance in strength of his heart hadn’t completely shut off his brain, a part of which was still very wary and couldn’t help but imagine Harry anouncing this was all a sham. It may have stemmed from a general disbelief of all things that could potentially be good to him, or his own insecurities not allowing him to trust any genuine, beyond physical attraction towards himself.

A gentle brush of knuckles against his cheek brought him back to the present situation while also making him fly thousands of feet away from this place. His doubts were far from disminished, but they were tamed and covered by urgency and lust. He didn’t even let himself consider this being his only chance at physical intimacy with Harry, and most likely anyone else afterwards, lest he would back away in fear and cowardice.

Instead, he took the more dangerous yet welcoming path – acting according to the god’s claims. If it was true, that they were mates, had been since before either knew of the existence of the other, this was only a beginning.

Before he could take the plunge and press his lips against Harry’s, he knew there was something left to do, that couldn’t quite be ignored.

“I guess if this is our time for confession,” he managed to croak out between the lump in his throat.

Harry lifted an eyebrow and got up, towering over Louis more than he usually did due to their current position. He got lost in the thought, how for the first time he didn’t feel small in this situation and how easy it would be to move forward and get lost in the warmth of Harry’s lower stomach. Maybe he would finally get the reply to this question he hadn’t been able to ever truly get out of his mind, always wondering if the smell of lavender was stronger the closer it got to the god’s private areas.

It seemed like his tendency to wander away mentally was testing Harry’s patience, as he lifted his chin and asked “Are you finally going to tell me what happened with Apollo?”

Irritation and amusement fought for domination in Louis’ heart at this inquiry. He assumed the god found it difficult to move past, and Louis found himself wondering how long he would be able to keep from answering before he would have to pay the price.

Now wasn’t the time for projection, so he stood up as well and scrunched his face at the height difference, even if it was expected. He could break it by standing on his toes, which he did so he reached Harry’s ear. He braced himself on his shoulders, and words could lie but the small hitch in Harry’s breath wasn’t faked as easily, which settled his nerves just a bit more.

“I’ve heard you don’t kiss strangers,” he whispered, though the tremble in his voice gave away the superficiality of his confidence. “So, hi. My name is Louis.”

His legs started to tremble, from holding himself up in an uncomfortable position, from the exhaustion that this day brought him, from the relief of finally letting this out in the open, from the fear of finally letting this out in the open. It only got worse as he received no reaction, no twitch to say he was listened to and understood.

And then, “Are you for real?”, in a breath and coupled with a harsh grip on his waist, the bottom of his spine that acomodated perfectly Harry’s fingertips.

“Well, I’d say I am 95 percent sure,” Louis admitted, biting his lip to resist wrapping his legs around the god’s hips.

“Statistically, that’s all I need to make it a fact.”

Louis frowned at the answer, far from what he had expected. Though, judging by the beaming look on Harry’s face, he may have been still trying to process the information, thus altering his capacity to say something appropriate. Louis, who for once felt comfortable having the upper hand, decided to help him along.

“And realistically, is it all you need right now?” he let out, trying to play coy. It felt weird, hearing such a flirty tone get out of his mouth, and he would have cringed if he had had the time.

As it was, he couldn’t ponder over it before he was grabbed by his legs, which he no longer had to resist wrapping around Harry. He let out a gasp at the sudden change in his position, gripping hard on the god’s neck. Their eye contact lasted only long enough for Louis to feel his heart rabbiting, desperate for more yet dreading it, before Harry placed his lips on his.

Louis was shell-shocked, feeling taken aback even as he was the one who had demanded the kiss. He was so thrown off he didn’t react at all, stared at Harry’s curls brushing over his closed eyelids and felt the urging press of lips against his as if he weren’t part of this realm.

Suddenly, Harry squeezed his hold on Louis’ thighs, and all feels came crashing back into his body. He closed his eyes at this, even as the most beautiful sight was offered to him, only because his brain could barely survive the onslaught of emotions caused only by Harry’s touch and smell.

He pressed back just as hard, though his movements were sloppier then the god’s, who didn’t seem to mind from the whine he let out. Louis was burning inside out, felt the need to be closer to Harry, always closer, be one and never detach. He felt lightheaded and sincerely hoped he wouldn’t faint again, just like he had done the first time he had been this close to Harry. His grasp on reality felt too important to slide through his fingers right now.

This caused an urgency in Louis’ actions. He reduced the space of his legs, clinging onto Harry so badly he could feel the shape of his cock right next to his in all its details. He pushed on his calves, only enough to lift for a bit and go back down, grinding on Harry to the best of his ability. He was growing frantic very quickly, unable to resist, seeking more of the heady sensation of their physical intimacy. The pressure against his trapped cock was amazing, but the knowledge it was rubbing against Harry’s, even through the layers of clothes, felt more intense.

He only got to experience it for a few seconds, as Harry didn’t follow his track mind and gripped him hard, completely halting his movements. Louis whined and moved in a forward motion, not as enjoyable but doing the job enough, and was punished with the end of their kiss. He chased Harry’s lips with his own with the same impatience he did his orgasm. He was ignoring Harry’s wordless warnings, and even when he was told in a firm voice ‘Stop it’ he carried on. He felt out of control and knew he would be so ashamed of such desperation at a later date, but now all he could focus on was _more more more_.

His brain was a big mess of greed and lust, until all was replaced with white noise. Louis stopped all movements, could only focus on the sudden sting of his bum where Harry had just hit it. It felt like the harshest plunge back into reality, and Louis was so torn up on the sharp arousal that had taken source in his left cheek he couldn’t seek his orgasm anymore.

“Behave, petal, or I will force you to,” Harry told him, and Louis was swimming in his own headspace. He was shaken out of it with a soothing hand where it still burnt from the hit and Harry’s gentle voice asking “Are you okay? I just need us to listen to each other, love, can you do that for me?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, and his voice cracked which made Harry furrow his brows again. Louis leaned forward so he could hide his face in the god’s neck, his flaming cheeks probably a dead giveaway of his predicament.

“What is it-”

“What you did, it was,” he gulped and mumbled, his lips brushing against Harry’s taut skin, “it was good. Felt nice. Grounded me.”

He stopped talking then, if what he had just done could even be qualified as such. He felt ashamed at enjoying something clearly meant as a warning, but the sting in his bum was still present enough that he couldn’t ignore it, or the way he had gotten harder after it.

“Okay, that’s,” Harry cleared his throat and started walking, his voice not enough to coax Louis out of his neck, “nice. It’s nice if, if you liked it.”

Louis was still blushing, but he felt on even footing with Harry, who seemed just as affected. He thanked him for understanding the way he could right now, and nimbled on his neck. Harry’s steps were suddenly more rapid, and Louis tried his best to not feel too satisfied about it. He failed.

Harry laid him down on the bed with a delicacy Louis didn’t believe he possessed. An odd thought striked him, as he acknowledge how gentle Harry’s action towards him were. He had already seen the rapt attention, the calculated movements, the tender touches. Harry was treating Louis just like a flower. It made him flush even harder, made him squirm as the god’s stare was unyielding.

This time, the darkness in his eyes came from a place of desire, and Louis doubted he looked much different. This had been building up for so long, and he couldn’t wait to give himself away completely to the only one he would ever trust with something as delicate. Even then, it felt like so much more than he could deal with, when the entire focus was on him and he was shown how cared for he was. He was ready to burst at the seams, couldn’t hold it in anymore, though he had no idea what _it_ even was.

“I’ve seen wonders from all around the world,” Harry interrupted his thoughts with a raspy voice. He was still kneeling over him, no contact except for green against blue. “I have seen the best that every realm has to offer, and with my own two hands I provide some of these extraordinary sights.” Louis took his eyes away from his face out of curiosity for the violet he could see from his peripheral vision. There, from Harry’s clenched fist, was growing a bouquet of lavenders. It reminded Louis of his own lack of any particular power, and how undeserving of Harry’s attention he truly was. His thoughts were cut short as Harry continued, “And yet, I never feel as in awe as I do in front of you. Never as lucky, never as unworthy, never as in pure extasis as I am right now, staring right at you and knowing you are mine as much as I am yours. I want to share every breath with you by my side, and the rest of eternity isn’t enough to provide satisfaction.”

The only sound beside Harry’s slow drawl was Louis’ harsh breathing, as his entire body trembled from the intensity of the sensations brought by the god’s words. His eyes were still glued to the lavender, because all that it held, all that it meant to them, was suddenly rushing back to him. He remembered the embarassing and the breathtaking moments all the same, the looks and the voices and the tension. It all boiled down to this feeling he only now felt the strength of, the one he had been uselessly denying as it had already invaded him to the core.

He felt so much _love_, coming from the god and himself, he didn’t even try and resist as he surged forward and clashed their lips together.

He wasn’t quite as good with his words as Harry was, and certainly not as confident to vocalise his passion. As such, he tried to convey the reciprocity of his feelings through the touch of their lips and the moans that would escape his. Harry gladly accepted it, immediately moving in tandem with him and giving as good as he got, if not better.

He leaned forward slowly, but Louis only realised once his head hit the pillow. Their hands were roaming around, mapping out yet again every inch of skin they could. Louis felt dizzy when he remembered only yesterday he was rubbing this exact spot on Harry’s back, and how everything had changed in such a short span. He had felt so much, but had only been able to act as the servant he was back then. He could touch for only as long as it wasn’t detrimental to his own health, enough to do what was asked of him but not to give or receive pleasure.

He wanted it all now. He wanted to touch Harry where he hadn’t dared the day prior, slide his own hand up and down his cock the way Harry had so teasingly done, and be allowed to look without worrying over how it would appear. He wanted to own up to his feelings and act on his desires.

Harry separated their lips, giving Louis the chance to breathe in some much needed air. He didn’t waste time though, and took this opportunity to turn them around. Harry fell on the bed with a bounce, and Louis settled on his lap in no time.

“Is this okay?” he asked. He wanted to take control – to some extent – but only with Harry’s consent. Harry didn’t reply, though he seemed intrigued, and Louis jumped on that so they could hopefully get into it sooner. “I just, we can do it another way but- I want to touch you. Please?”

He truly needed to get a grip, as this constant blushing wasn’t quite enjoyable. It especially annoyed him when he was trying to gain control over the situation, as it felt useless when even his own body refused to meet his demands.

“Do as you please, my love. Your happiness is my sole focus and will bring me more satisfaction than anything I could ever do to your body,” Harry whispered back, sitting against the mountain of pillows with a fond smile.

Louis felt his heart clench, but only bent down to kiss him again as a reaction. He was slower about it this time, still painfully unskilled but following the gentle swipes of Harry’s tongue against his and letting himself be submerged by the feeling. Harry brought his body back in a sitting position, and Louis almost stopped their kissing to wonder aloud as to what prompted this. Only, before he could, the sound of fabric rubbing against fabric reached his ears, and soon he could feel Harry’s chest without any barrier between them. He tightened his hands around Harry’s curls when his lower lip was bitten down on, the sting of pain always bringing more pleasure to him. Louis realised it wasn’t the pain that was the culprit of his arousal, as much as the knowledge that all these actions would be imprinted on his body, marks of where Harry had loved him and in return he had trusted the god enough to let him do unspeakable things.

For so long, his body had been nothing but a canvas of beige, white, black and blue. He wasn’t much desirable with such a battered vessel for his soul, and had to live each day with the knowledge of all his past mistakes colouring him so he wouldn’t dare forget them. But now, he was miles of free, untainted skin, for the first time in forever, yet he craved to be marked again. He wanted these years of painful reminders of his own foolishness to be replaced with painful reminders of the night his devotion was returned, the promises of a future of only that.

It came from this fear that had taken over his heart, always lingering but especially prominent after yesterday’s incident and the knowledge that his mind and memory were not to be trusted, but that the visual and daily proofs were enough to ingrain something in his brain, whether he wanted to forget it or not. The bruises, the scars, the lavender were all unpleasant souvenirs to stories he would not recall entirely, but still better than any other part of his unchanging life. For once, he wanted them to be portals to happy thoughts.

However, he couldn’t well ask Harry to leave traces on him so soon after asking to be in charge. Reluctantly, he moved away from the gentle embrace and let his hands brush over Harry’s large shoulders. They grew tense under his hands for a second, before relaxing further. Louis stared at the lines that appeared when he let his nails scratch the skin on his way down the god’s arms. He traced the shape of each muscle he encountered, followed the path created by his blue veins, and tickled his fingers with the gentle caress of his own, completely entranced. At their twitch, he realised how much he wanted those fingers to be everywhere on and in him, and how this slow discovery wasn’t enough for him now.

He gulped, raising his eyes back to Harry’s, who seemed far from bored – he looked in pain from preventing himself to ravish Louis, his eyes dark and his cheek sucked so deeply in his mouth it made his cheekbones look sharp like a knife. Louis’ breath hitched, but he gripped Harry’s wrists to remind him he wasn’t allowed to touch until he said he could. It was absurd, as he knew that if Harry had wanted to overthrow him, he would have been utterly powerless in both a physical and a mental way. His body is of no mesure against a god’s, and his mind would have completely submitted itself to all of Harry’s desires.

Still, Harry obediently let his arms rest on the side of his body, only clenching his fists to prevent himself from hurrying things along. Louis smiled a little, and rewarded him with a gentle peck on his lips that soon delved into a searing kiss, tongues caressing each other at the same time Louis brought his hands to Harry’s nipples and rubbed them softly. He played with them more after hearing the shakiness in Harry’s next intake of breath, rolling them between his fingertips experimentally and pinching them a few times.

A buck of Harry’s hips was all he needed to give himself more courage, as he pressed kisses to his cheeks, descending to his jawline and throat. He licked at his collarbones, didn’t meant for it to be teasing but by the growl that escaped Harry’s lips it was. The skin beneath his lips was so hot, pulsing with all the life and the power it withheld, and Louis found himself craving more. He nibbled, sucked and downright bit at his chest, eliciting gasps and moans from Harry, who was beginning to thrash around a little. All blood was rushing south for both men, completely at the mercy of each other and the pure arousal coursing through their veins.

In a bold move he didn’t let himself think about beforehand, he brought his mouth to Harry’s left nipple and licked a broad stripe there. It seemed to be enough to break his resolve, as his right hand was suddenly clasped around Louis’ neck, clenching at the same time a loud ‘fuck’ was heard in the otherwise silent room. Spurred on, Louis started sucking, playing with the nub with his tongue at times, relishing in the obscenities coming from Harry’s mouth. He only stopped once he noticed his own rutting against the god’s thigh, not desiring for either of them to come this way. He had so much more to explore, he wouldn’t be left unable to go further than his lover’s upper stomach.

Without a word and with Harry’s hand still firmly gripping his neck, he moved away from his nipple, only connected to it by a string of saliva. He looked up at Harry again, and the wild look he sported made him burn up. He could only guess how he looked, on his hands and knees, red lips and red cheeks and mussed up hair. As a fleeting thought traversed him, he sat up on his haunches, catching sight of the lovebites he had left on the god’s chest, appreciating them as he knew they wouldn’t last long. A god wasn’t to sport marks of any being below themselves, their bodies scarring most efficiently at an extraordinary speed, and Louis tried not to let himself be unsettled by the thought.

Instead, he brought his hands to his left hip, gently untangling the knot there. Harry brought his gaze down from where he was admiring Louis’ pretty features, and let the hand that had fallen down from Louis’ neck go to his right hip. His world felt centred around a single thing in a way it had never been in the past – Louis, and the urge to have him in the nude, standing before him in all his mystical beauty. He had been waiting for so long to be in this exact position, he felt he could lose all control and let himself take what he had claimed as rightfully his so long ago.

But, more important than seeing Louis give himself away completely to him was Louis’ comfort, which prompted him to stop a few inches away from the other knot, the last obstacle between his eyes and body, and Louis’ lower half. He rubbed his knuckle on Louis’ waist, and asked “May I untie the other side?” once he heard his shaky exhale. His heart soared with joy when he received an affirmative nod, though he couldn’t help but wish Louis’ eyes would be opened.

Louis felt the gentle slide of Harry’s fingertips against his stomach, tracing the lines of his abs tantalisingly, as if punishing Louis for his own teasing earlier. He quickly got to work however, taking the string within two fingers and pulling on it, Louis hearing more than feeling the knot slowly coming undone. He didn’t dare open his eyes, could only deal with something that felt so big in the dark. With this, he was baring himself entirely for Harry, mind body and soul his to take. He was showing his outer layer entirely as the first step to accessing his most intimate self, the one he had never shared with anyone.

He felt the gentle way the lapel of his cloth fell down, landing on Harry’s lap and giving his eyes, hands, tongue, the possibility of caressing his now uncovered private area. When he opened his eyes at last, his cock was laying on Harry’s stomach with a deep red tint to it, and Harry looked as if he wanted to both destroy him and admire him for the rest of eternity.

In all his respectful manners, he didn’t touch, didn’t invade Louis’ privacy without his consent. Louis was both thankful and resentful for that, but he still wasn’t done. Underneath him, Harry still wore pants, similar to his only they had to be slid down. He didn’t waste a moment and gripped the waistband, tugging at it and looking at the soft, baby pink fabric so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at what he was uncovering.

He threw both pants when he reached the foot of the bed, letting them land somewhere on the floor of the room to be cared for later. He bit his lower lip and moved back up, both with his body and sight, until he was laying between Harry’s open thighs.

In front of his curious eyes stood a dick, much similar to his except for its bigger and thicker size. It wasn’t his first time seeing it, but it was the first time he could let himself admire it. He briefly thought of their encounter the day prior, considered mentioning what he had implied back then with Apollo, but Harry’s hand came up to encircle his own cock, not tugging quite yet but hinting at it with a rub of his slit.

Louis didn’t approve of that at all, and launched forward to push the hand away. Before Harry could question or react, Louis darted his tongue out to lick along the thick vein that followed the entire length of his penis, which was met with an appreciative mewl from Harry.

He did smell strongly of lavender here, more than anywhere else. Louis was appreciative of that, the smell always doing wonders to soothe him, as well as the sweet taste lingering on his lips. He felt Harry tangle his fingers in his hair, not pushing or pulling, just laying there. It all served to calm his heart rate, beating wildly when faced with the unknown.

He remembered at once of all the other people that must have been in the same position, smelled this exact scent and tasted this exact savour. This might be new territory to him, but it wasn’t to Harry in the slightest.

He excepted his reaction to be to pull away, close himself off in shame and self-consciousness. Instead, he felt it was a personal challenge. He might not be the first or the only, but he would be the one that Harry wouldn’t forget, the one he would be forced to think of whenever someone mentioned sexual intimacy. He would replace all the prior experiences with this one.

So, he grabbed the shaft and took the tip of it between his lips, humming in content as he was hit with the sweet taste again. Harry tightened his grip, and Louis happily obliged the silent request as he swirled his tongue around the small bit he had in his mouth, much like he had done with his nipple beforehand. It appeared to be pleasant to Harry as much as it was to him, especially when he felt his right leg lifting just to drape over Louis’ back, adding a weight that brought him even closer to the god.

He detached from the head, licking along the length until he reached the balls. He tugged one in his mouth, fondling with it at the same time he wanked Harry, and couldn’t help a moan of his own when Harry blurted out “Oh my- Louis, baby, so good for me,” before delving in more praises laced with some swearing.

Louis grew more and more confident, going back to putting the cock in his mouth. He wanted to truly suck it this time, and hollowed his cheek on his way down. Only, he was so impatient he delved right in, going too far too fast.

He had to pull away immediately, eyes watering and throat constricting on a gag. He coughed and breathed heavily so it would pass, and the tears in his eyes weren’t only from his body’s violent reaction but also from the embarrassment taking over him. He had wanted so bad to be Harry’s best, and now he was probably his worst encounter yet. He wanted to burn in shame.

The hand in his hair hadn’t faltered though, and as soon as he stopped heaving as much, it tugged him upwards. He wanted to refuse, stay where he was and bury himself in shame in the blankets, but he didn’t want to deal with the pain in his scalp. He refused to meet Harry’s eyes however, even when he was hovering above his torso and the god was still relentlessly tugging.

“Petal, are you okay?” he asked in a soft voice, and when Louis went to nod he used the leverage to tug his head harder than he had since the start. The moan and twitch of Louis’ cock that ensued only further plunged him in his self-hatred party. “Fuck, you’re so,” Harry breathed out, and Louis clenched his eyes though his red and tear stricken face was exposed. “Louis, please look at me,” he pleaded and rubbed his thumb behind his ear, much like he would do when he put a flower in his hair.

Louis exhaled and shook his head, surging forward so he could hide in Harry’s neck. He gripped his sides tightly and tried to calm himself down with the smell of lavender, though it seemed to only serve as a reminder of what he had just done and worsen his mental state. He sniffed anyway, and decided Harry at least deserved some sort of apology.

“I’m so sorry deus, I was just- I wanted to be good, and I wanted more, but I’ve never done this and I don’t know how much I can take, and I’m just,” he let a small kiss, as much of an apology as when he repeated “sorry.”

Harry didn’t try to make him look at him anymore, but started rubbing Louis’ hair with one hand and his back with the other. Louis let himself relax into the touch, pushing towards it in seek of comfort.

“You don’t have to apologise, you were so good- you’re so good,” Harry quickly corrected himself, and Louis wanted to ask for him to stop lying but Harry carried on before he could. “I’ve never felt like this, you’re the only one that matters Louis. Fuck, just being able to call you by your actual name gets me so,” he cut himself off abruptly and took Louis’ hand in his, bringing it to his spit-slick cock. “Can you feel this?” he asked uselessly, but Louis nodded anyway. “I’m so hard for you, only you, because you’re so beautiful and sweet and perfect and- and you’re you, Louis. That’s all you need to be the best I could ever ask for. And don’t feel ashamed for being ignorant on this matter, as I am incredibly selfish and the knowledge that I am the only one to have ever experienced this with you makes me feel more divine than I have in my entire existence.”

He could sense that Harry wasn’t done with his spiel, but Louis wasn’t sure he could handle much more without squealing or dying of spontaneous combustion. To shut him up, he took advantage of the hand that was wrapped around the god’s cock and went back to wanking it.

“Fucking hell,” he heard whispered directly in his ears, and Louis bit down on Harry’s shoulder in retaliation.

He was still hiding in what he assumed to be his new safe haven, doing to Harry’s dick what he was used to doing to his. He twisted his hand on his way up, and tightened it on the way down, fondled his balls every once in a while. It would have been mechanical, if the words Harry uttered weren’t filled with such filth they got Louis trying to settle deeper and deeper into him.

If he felt overwhelmed then though, it was nothing compared to the shock in his system when he felt Harry’s fingers massage his rim. He hadn’t even noticed the absence of his hand, yet it must have left his body at some point for it was now clearly covered in lube. Louis let out a whine and clenched when Harry’s middle finger started breaching, only slightly entering his hole.

He was panting, didn’t know whether to escape the maddening touch or go towards it, demand for more. The decision wasn’t his, as Harry penetrated him once more, going deeper and deeper at such a slow pace Louis could only feel every ridge in his finger. By the time Harry’s knuckles were flush against his ass, Louis was heaving in an attempt to actually be able to breathe. He knew it would be difficult for as long as he stayed in this place, hidden from view and fresh air, but still he snuggled further, pressing heated kisses against every inch of skin he could reach.

“Is this okay, Lou?” Harry asked, and Louis noticed how both his own hand and the fingers in his arse were unmoving.

He moaned out a ‘yes’, prompting for them to get going with an upward stroke and an arch of his back. Harry got the message if his sudden in and out motion were anything to go by. Louis both relaxed and got more worked up with each movement, and now the room was filled with both of their moans. He was relentless, however, and wouldn’t be satisfied with only this, no matter how breathtaking Harry’s long fingers were.

“More, please deus, please.”

His wish wasn’t granted – instead, Harry stopped all movement, and nudged until Louis was forced to look up, if only to whine about it.

“Why are you calling me deus again?” Harry asked when they were looking at each other, and Louis widened his eyes. He hadn’t really noticed he was doing it, it just felt right. Harry teased him with the tip of his second finger, and Louis’ eyes rolled back at the feeling of him grazing his prostate. It was gone as soon as he started, and this time he let out a loud whine in complaint. “We’re equals now, and if you wish for me to comply to your demands, you have to act as such. Your mouth is so pretty when it shapes around my name, do not deprive me of such pleasure.”

Louis brought his free hand to Harry’s face and tilted it up, the perfect position for their lips to meet when he leant back down. He kept a small distance however, needed to feel somewhat in control as he said “Harry, give me more so I can finally feel you inside me or I swear on my life, god or not, I will strangle you.”

He let out a frustrated groan when all he received in return was a smirk, but was quick to turn it in a moan when a second finger entered him and directly hit his prostate. His loud cry was muffled by Harry’s mouth covering his, but the pressure on his bundle of nerve didn’t relent, Harry massaging it for all its might.

He felt tears sliding down his face as a result of its intensity, feeling the pleasure down to his toes from how powerful it was. He sat up despite the sweetness of Harry’s lips on his, and started rolling his hips so the fingers wouldn’t be a constant pressure anymore. Harry took it as his cue to scissor his fingers, and Louis tried his best not to wince from the stretch he felt.

Harry sensed his discomfort. Louis assumed he had made a face, until he realised the way he suddenly clenched his hand around Harry’s dick might have something to do with it – especially as Harry relaxed his fist and instead brought his hand over his head. Louis didn’t have time to feel embarrassed about his new mishap when Harry twisted his body and gave Louis a taste of his own medicine.

Harry was playing with his nipples, completely toying with them with no regard as to what could hurt and what could be too much. He bit and sucked and licked until they were puffy and so _so_ sensitive. Louis was crying out, the hand that wasn’t still being held down by Harry tangled in his curls and precome oozing out and landing straight in the god’s belly button. He was so caught up in the feeling in his chest, the next finger that slipped in besides the first two went unnoticed.

“Harry,” he couldn’t help but yell out, tugging at his hair so he would finally give him a minute to breathe. This idea was quickly discarded however, considering as soon as Harry detached his mouth from his chest, he jabbed all three fingers right in Louis’ prostate. Louis slumped down, ruined and breathless, and begged “Please, Harry, don’t.”

He didn’t know whether he wanted to say ‘don’t stop’ or ‘don’t make me come like this’, words dancing in his brain slightly out of his reach, ideas blurred together to the point where he couldn’t make anything out. Harry was apparently unsatisfied with that, as he pulled out all three fingers at once, leaving Louis a gaping, whining mess.

“It’s okay, petal, it’s okay,” Harry soothed him, rubbing his clean hand over Louis’ back. He kept going until Louis could breathe easier, still painfully hard but at least aware of his surroundings. “Do you want to do it like this?” he asked.

Louis considered it. Harry looming above him, thrusting into him at whatever pace he saw fit, controlling Louis’ body and pleasure – only the thought made his dick twitch.

But. He had wanted to be in control and do whatever he wanted with Harry’s body for so long, this might be his only chance. He couldn’t very well blow it, especially when he was promised a lifetime and more of sex, where he could be used by Harry as much as they both wished.

Instead of replying, he sat up and blindly reached for Harry’s cock. He didn’t pay any mind to the hitch in his next breath, and lifted only enough for the tip of his cock to get caught on his rim. He took a deep breath to relax his body, and started to slide down. Underneath him, Harry groaned and grabbed his hips so tightly it was sure to leave bruises. The idea of seeing the trace of his fingertips for days to come made Louis that much more excited, just enough to fuel him and make him drop the rest of the way down.

The stretch was incredibly painful, even with his prepped and lubed hole. He clenched down tightly, but couldn’t bring himself to regret his impulsive act. Now, he was absolutely sure to have bruises, as well as an ache that would remind him even when he least wanted to of what they had done. It was enough to make it worth it, and he bent down to kiss Harry so he wouldn’t make any worried inquiry about Louis’ state. Feeling bliss out of pain was much different than admitting to it, and he didn’t feel quite ready to.

“Harry,” Louis breathed out against his lips, sounding incredibly needy to his own ears. He moved a little, making them both grunt out.

“Louis, fuck, can’t believe you’re real.”

“Harry, please,” he moaned out as the blunt head hit right in his sensitive prostate, and brought Harry’s head up, right at his neck that he bared with a lift of his chin. “Mark me up, Harry, make me yours.”

Harry thrusted hard inside Louis, in what seemed to be an involuntary movement, which pumped all air out of Louis’ body.

“Fucking hell, Lou, you’re killing me,” Harry growled and bit down on the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. “You’re mine, always have been, don’t need no proof for it.”

Louis’ eyes rolled at the back of his head, and he tried his best to ignore how loud his cries were. The grip Harry had on him didn’t falter, but he didn’t mind as he started moving up and down, thighs flexing as he managed to go high enough to only have the head of his cock inside of him. Harry kept kissing down, sucking and biting and leaving red and purple behind him. Louis moved up and down his length slowly, languidly, trying not to disrupt Harry’s work. This way, he felt every inch rubbing against his tight walls, could enjoy being filled in all its menial details.

If it was enjoyable to Louis, it frustrated Harry to no end. His desire to pound into the glorious heat offered to him was clouding over his brain, yet he didn’t want to force Louis into anything. Instead, he took to some gentle convincing. He stopped sucking below his collarbone, quite satisfied with how much more beautiful Louis looked with possessive paint littered where it mattered – in places everyone could see, and in places so intimate Harry hoped only the two of them would feast on the magnificent sight.

Louis lifted, up on his knees with his palms on Harry’s chest as balance, when Harry decided to strike again. This time, he hit the left cheek, with enough force for Louis to jostle so hard he suddenly wasn’t connected to him anymore. Just like the first time, his head filled with white noise and he grew red all over, a small whine escaping him. Harry rubbed his hand right where he had spanked him, yet it only made Louis’ skin burn even more.

His cheeks were spread open by Harry's hands in an indecent manner, prompting Louis to tuck his burning face in the safety of his neck. It didn’t muffle his loud ‘fuck’ when Harry hit him again, just to fuck right back into Louis.

Right away, he lifted Louis back up, giving himself more room to thrust up. He was harsh and unforgiving in the pace he set, making Louis take it with breathless whimpers and sweat covering his entire body. He was completely lying on him, clenching and unclenching without rhythm and trailing kisses over Harry’s jaw.

Heat built in his lower stomach, his dick slapping against his stomach on every other thrust, and Harry doing the same with his hand on his bottom. He tried to meet his thrusts, making each collision of skin on skin that much harder. The sound of Harry’s pelvis hitting his bum and upper thighs was only covered by loud moans and words of praise leaving both of their mouths.

Nothing united two souls so different in power and situation than equally shared love, expressed in their bodies melting into each other. Louis could swear Harry’s skin was glowing under him, warmer than it has ever been in the past. He couldn’t believe this connection was purely physical, not when his arousal and pleasure were minimal compared to the feeling of belonging he had never known before. Their hearts might have been separated a long time ago, but they would always call out for each other, until Harry gave his to Louis and Louis did as much.

When Harry moved his hand to hold onto Louis’ sides, Louis felt the gentle caress of more than his fingers. He lifted his head only enough to peek at his left, seeing the silk texture belonged to the trail of flowers Harry was leaving in his wake. It seemed to trickle out, unbeknownst to him as he could only focus on pleasuring his mate. Power was multiplied when two souls made for each other combined and gave as much as they took of the other, as no one was ever as strong as when they were whole.

Though the petals of the rose were soft, Harry’s hands weren’t. Louis was soon back to panting and being moved more than he was in control of his own body, submitting fully to Harry’s deep penetrations. They weren’t hard in a way that made him feel cheap and used, but strong as if the force behind his push was only parallel to the strength of his devotion. Harry tried to bury himself deeper each time, wanted to give Louis everything he had and was before receiving anything. He felt it approaching, his legs twitching and his stomach clenching – the moment he would seal them together by letting a part of him invade Louis physically, there only for him to take and claim as his own.

“Louis, Louis, look at me,” Harry panted out, and Louis took his head out of the crook of his neck so he could do just as asked.

Green met blue for what could be the thousandth or the first time, and Louis felt his breath being taken away at the same time Harry seated him completely on his cock through the harsh grip on his hips. Louis minutely moved his hips, but was soon stopped and whined in return. Harry didn’t let him try again though, as he demanded again

“Look at me, Louis,” which made him realise he had closed his eyes. As he opened them again, he felt physically hit by the adoration he could read in Harry’s gaze. “You are my mate, my sunshine, the reason for my beating heart. I adore you, I breathe and live only for you." He grunted and bucked up in short, uncontrollable thrusts. "I felt incredibly alone in this world, finding solace in nothing but my flowers when faced with only destruction and chaos.” Harry took his hand in his, intertwining their fingers and gripping hard. With his other hand, he prompted Louis to circle his hips, who obliged. Still, he held his gaze, found himself unable to escape it. “But you’re so much more Louis, you’re not something I seek out to escape the harsh word we’re living in; you’re the reason I accept it, the only one that makes it all worth it. You soothe me, warm me up on the coldest days, give me a safe heaven to find refuge in. You’re home, you’re my one and only latibule.” He thrusted hard, hitting right in Louis’ abused prostate and gritted out “My love for you is greater than all the creations in every realm and all their creators, and I am completely and willingly yours, only as much as I claim you as solely mine.”

Louis came so hard he blacked out and fell straight on Harry’s heaving chest, landing in a pool of his own come. He was only conscious enough to feel himself being filled with Harry’s semen, rendering him breathless at the force and amount he was shooting out.

It took him some time before he was conscious enough to realise his mouth was moving and he was on a clean part of the bed. He groggily opened his eyes and saw Harry was the one on top of him now, wiping them both clean with what Louis realised was the shirt he had worn out today. He tried not to blush at the sight and failed.

“I won’t go, Louis, I’m right here, don’t worry,” Harry said as he chucked the shirt over his shoulder, finally making Louis aware of his own being rather than only his surroundings.

His hand was gripping hard on Harry’s and he realised the call of ‘Stay, please don’t leave’ he thought had been mental pleas he prayed to be understood, had actually been ringing out in the room all this time. Harry would have heard his prayers anyway, if they had been made with a pure heart and genuine belief. Louis didn’t lack the first one, though his trust in Harry’s words was already growing thinner.

“Can’t believe I can finally call my mate by his name,” Harry whispered out, not meant to be heard in the slightest. “_Louis_ \- the prettiest sound I have ever heard to complete the perfection that is this human.” He sighed, laying on his side and bringing a sleepy Louis to his chest. He begun tracing patterns on his back, humming out “How could I have ever resisted you, Louis?”

Louis had a reply on the tip of his tongue, something smart and unexpected and only slightly self-depreciating, but he possessed no energy other than to cuddle further in his god’s broad chest, relief found in the beating of his heart. Sleep grabbed his ankle and made him sink like a dead weight, and for the first time in forever, he couldn’t wait to wake up.

___

As Louis regained his senses, he told himself he wouldn’t let his heart be broken. Whatever was awaiting as he opened his eyes, he would be strong and survive it with a small scratch and only half a lifetime of anguish. The air felt colder and purer, but it could well be his confusion, or a strange dream, or maybe these entire last days had been nothing but a vivid and too realistic nightmare. These last few years, if he was lucky.

He burrowed his face in the pillow before he even considered turning around. He needed a few more seconds of bliss, or doubt, of ignorance. Then, he sat up and truly woke up, which he couldn’t wait for only a few hours prior yet now wished to never happen.

He looked around, and no amount of talking to himself could have prevented the weight falling on his chest and bringing him down in excruciating pain.

The room was spotless, no trace of any other being besides Louis himself ever having lain here. The clothes that had been hastily thrown around had all been taken away, except for his own uniform, folded at the foot of the bed. The flowers, papers, ink, smells, everything that could suggest Harry had been in here was merely a mirage of what Louis knew to have been there yesterday.

Harry had vanished. Again.

This time, he had left a single lavender, laying preciously on the pillow next to his head. Louis pretended it was all that had been left here almost as an after thought. That way, he could pretend not to feel the bruises and soreness on his body, littering the shell of where used to reside a soul, stolen by deceitful hands.

Louis always knew, deep down, it was all leading to this exact scene. He had imagined it countless of times, only insignificant details changing the current situation from what had been plaguing his mind since the first day he had allowed himself to look at Harry in a true loving light.

He had it all, down to the moment he broke down on the bed - crying in hopes that the last, broken pieces of his heart that had been left to him because useless and unworthy - would leave his body in the salt of his tears.

Nothing would bring him the solace of emptiness, and Louis realised it hours later, as he sat clenching the last remaining piece of Harry he had between his hand.

When he had realised Harry treated him like one of his precious flowers, he had forgotten they were picked only until they weren’t pretty enough not to be discarded anymore. And Harry, as the god of flowers, was only there to make them bloom, not make sure they stayed alive once he departed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this during stats so I sincerely apologise to the old woman behind me, who I’m sure is lovely and wants nothing but to be a good student, and that I hope didn’t read what was on my computer in a moment of boredom. I shall go to hell and bring no unwilling individual with me (and _you_ count as willing for reading this so, see you there bitch)  
only the epilogue to go! it will be posted on halloween for the sake of my murder taking place on the day of the dead


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how this happened. how did this get to 50k words? how did it turn so angsty? how did i manage to fit all these events in TWO DAYS?? talk about a weekend.  
this isn't my story, i am nothing but the poor body that was possessed by God Harry Styles to write it down without my control
> 
> TW: the chapter is pretty heavy on angst in and of itself (it borders on depression), and there is a scene that could be considered self-harm (from “He pressed firmly” to “Everything was endurable”) but it can easily be skipped as it isn’t essential to the understanding of the rest of the story

The shrill, ear-piercing alarm hadn’t rung in weeks. No one really missed it, adjusting to a calm life and a mindless routine.

Louis hadn’t broken down since that fateful day. He had indulged in his darkest feelings, cried and screamed and prayed, thrashed the room and sniffed the pillow in search for Harry’s scent. He didn’t eat or leave the closed quarters, expecting for someone to come in and tell him he wasn’t welcomed in this establishment anymore at any point.

As night fell over the town, Louis was brought out of his daze by knocking on the window. With a limp, no clothes and a stupid hope he tried to tame, he opened the curtains and stepped out on the balcony. Maybe he had gotten it all wrong, and Harry truly was the knight in shining armour, there to take him far away from this place.

Niall stood there with a worried expressions and open arms, Zayn looming darkly behind him. Louis had tightened his lips, wishing to keep the tears at bay, and only resisted a few seconds before he ran into Niall’s embrace. He inquired to know what happened, but Louis ignored it in favour of silently sobbing. Zayn enveloped the both of them in his wings, and they stayed there in silence until Louis calmed down.

They helped him clean the room as Louis got dressed, everything going back to its rightful place – including the lavender he hid in his pocket. Zayn asked for information on the last two days, especially when he noticed Louis’ obvious pain in every movement he made, and the one etched deep on his face like the tear tracks that hadn't been wiped yet. He was shrugged off every single time, and when they closed the door as the sun began to rear its first beams from behind the collins, the topic was to never be breached again. As far as they knew, Louis was leaving everything, material and abstract ties and souvenirs alike, inside that room and starting a new chapter of his life, void of a certain British god.

Apprehension was lodged in every recess of his mind. Each time someone acknowledged him, he expected it to be to inform him of his departure. He couldn’t fathom how the rumour of his apparent status as a god’s mate hadn’t reached everyone’s ears, or if it had how it wasn’t of any affect on him. It seemed a reckless decision to keep him here when armed with this knowledge, even if it would be clear from his current position it was nothing more than hearsay.

He understood a few days later, as he passed the infamous restaurant. The cook was there, chatting pleasantly with a spirit of nature Louis had tended to only an hour prior. As their eyes met, recognition flashed in there, and Louis felt frozen to the spot. Staring in the barrel of a gun would have been less terrifying looking directly in the eyes of the man who hated him on principle and had his entire life in the palm of his hands.

Instead of calling out for everyone to recount the previous events that had occurred between him and the-god-that-shall-not-be-named, the cook had slightly bowed his head in salute. Purely out of habit, Louis returned it. He didn’t know if the man understood it had been nothing but a lie, but he wasn’t about to question it.

He rushed away, going back to his occupations, and stopped dreading the instant he would be unemployed. This loss only permitted other, darker feelings to take its place.

He had been stuck with the underground again, as he had escaped it the first week due to _someone_'s caprice. It was tiring work, one that took the entire day and sucked the energy right out of him. Louis kept running between rooms, cleaning stains he didn’t let himself think about the origin of, and tending to whatever malevolent creature resided in these parts that day. He barely ate, but it had the benefit of getting him to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows. If his dreams always came back to that night, and he was still holding the lavender dearly next to his heart, he tried not to let it show too badly in the bags under his eyes.

Louis tried to forget it, to not let his thoughts wander away in every second he had time to think. It was useless when each step had him wincing at the strain it took on his posterior, each shift in his clothes showcased to him and the rest of the world the marks of the god’s passage, and each shower had him scrubbing harder in hope of erasing them. Louis was plagued by the god and their shared experience, and it was his own fault for demanding such a thorough claiming. He hadn’t wanted to be able to forget them, and that was just what he got.

For the most part, others didn’t pay any mind to his bruises. They were so used to seeing him sporting the marks of the punishments Simon would lay on him, no one considered another origin for it. They didn’t see enough of Louis in the immediate aftermath to question it anyway. Louis tried to convince himself that holding this burden by himself was the best route to recovery, especially when he met Niall’s worried eyes from the other side of the room.

Halfway through the second week, Louis bumped into a god he didn’t quite expect to see. He was still unsure whether Liam truly was a god or just another divine creature accompanying the God That Was Actually A Demon, but he had assumed with absolute certainty he would have left as soon as his friend did.

Realising he was wrong as Liam was coming to take a bath in the common rooms wasn’t quite enjoyable. He only let a moment of surprise flash across his face before he recentred, deciding it was best to ignore any shared history they had and just treat him like he would any other customer. The pitying looks Liam threw at him burnt his skin, but not as much as the traces of lust covering his chest that he couldn’t help but feel Liam knew it wasn't put there by Simon's hand. He felt torn open and exposed for everyone who cared enough to see, and it served as enough of a fuel to get him to finish this as soon as possible.

The tense silence only lasted for as long as it took to prepare his bath. Once that done, Louis bowed respectfully and turned around. He was ready to go hide in a corner and escape the torture this world kept bringing him for a minute, but then Liam had to grab his arm and stop him in his track.

Against all his training and his better judgement, he didn’t turn around and acknowledge the god. Just standing there without ripping his arm out of his hold and bolting out was already hard enough however, and he kept staring straight ahead with a blank stare so he could keep at least a cool exterior.

“Ashimo,” Liam whispered out, and it felt somewhat shocking that he hadn’t been made aware of his true name. Louis thought the other god would have bragged about it to every person he valued – if he was capable of valuing anyone. “Are you okay?”

Louis gulped. He wasn’t ready for this conversation, and especially not with someone like Liam. He nodded, needed to get out of here right now. Liam pressed down on his wrist, trying to get the human to look at him. When it didn’t work, he sighed out and released him.

Louis scampered off, sight set on the false liberty awaiting him once he got out. He abruptly stopped, right at the door. Liam had just said, requested really, ‘Don’t hate him’, which.

Wasn’t that just absolute bullshit?

“Why do you care?” he asked, harsher than he had expected, but at least his voice didn’t crack. He turned his head so he could look at Liam and feel like he wasn’t giving in his bait. “He obviously doesn’t give a shit how I feel, so why would it matter if I hate him or not?”

He didn’t. That was the absolute worst part, how he resolutely did not hate him. There were moments where he wanted nothing but to yank him by his curls, grip his heart right in his hands and squeeze until he suffered half as much as Louis had. There were definitely moments of anger, and instances where he felt he hated him. But deep down, when his guards were down and he wasn’t trying so hard to convince himself he was fine, he knew he still loved the god.

But Louis was barely admitting it to himself, what would the point be of telling Liam this?

“I’m not against you,” Liam sighed out, and Louis tensed even more in anger. It was quickly boiling to rage.

“But you’re with him.” He threw him a dark look over his shoulder, “Same difference.”

“It’s not,” another sigh, and “This is useless, so just… if you ever need help, I’m here, yeah?”

Louis scoffed and muttered “Don’t count on it” before he finally stepped out of the room.

It only took him five minutes of harsh breathing to bring himself down. He took pride in the fact that no tears were shed, though it was overpowered by the shame at the lavender he had needed to bring to his nose to find peace.

It only hit him a few hours later, as he was laying in bed with the lavender on the pillow next to his head – it had started fading, but Louis pretended not to notice. He was tracing the shape of fingers on his hips, cursing god and their ability to leave durable if not permanent mark on a human’s body. If only he had a way of getting rid of them all that didn’t involve ripping his skin off.

It was actually pretty embarrassing, considering most of his thoughts were a constant reply of what had happened during those two days. It hadn’t slipped his mind more than he appeared unable to connect the dots.

He closed his eyes and, for the first time, fully indulged in the memories that were always playing in his head. He tried to focus on the moment the god was making his mixture. 

He knew he had looked at its content and that the main ingredients were laying somewhere in the corner of his mind, just out of reach. If only he could concentrate on those through the assault of feelings he got. 

The fear that hit him once he realised all he had confessed. The odd calm that had overtaken his body at knowing he had no more control, that he had given himself up entirely and could only sit back and wait for his fate to splay out in front of his eyes. The apprehension coming from the unknown of the god’s next actions. 

The surprise. The affection. The hope. The electricity running through his body and surrendering him fully to his power. 

He closed his eyes harder, wishing he could control his body for once. He needed to concentrate on his senses, not his feelings.

There was some definite lavender, he could fully remember that. It had struck him then, the scent always standing out when Louis was in contact with it. Parsley suddenly jumped at him, remembering his confusion when he had first smelled it. But there was something else, some essential element he hadn’t recognised.

It didn’t seem to matter then, as he ripped the cover off his body and got up. He wasn’t allowed out at such a time, the curfew being strict on all its workers. Louis had never been one to respect many rules however, and he knew full well how to get where he needed to. 

He was on a mission, attune with his environment more than with his inner being. It hadn’t happened in a long while, and he couldn’t deny the relief at shutting himself off so he could feel like nothing more than a particle in the air, a small pawn in a life he had never fit in. His humanity might have been hanging on by a thread, but it was weighing him down in every step; not in this moment. 

He didn’t have time to properly dress, couldn’t afford waking anyone up. The stairs no one knew of were cold and grimy beneath his naked feet, and every muffled noise rang loudly in his ears. It wasn’t his first time being in this position, escaping through this secret path on the side of their balcony. He knew all he was doing, not in a conscious way, but in an automatism that came from year of repeating this, and the certainty of each of his movements was enough to ease his mind. 

He hadn’t encountered a soul, living or dead, but couldn’t waste a moment on thankfulness. He had to move, stealthy and quick. He was coated in the dark of the night, even more so in this place where the stars didn’t shine, and could feel himself becoming one with the background. 

He hit the water in a splash louder than he would have wanted it to be, but the current sliding between his calves and guiding him closer to the shore was a welcomed sensation. He walked in the shallow parts, close to the stone wall of his place of residence. It was cold, numbingly so, yet he ended up entering the water completely, letting his body be submerged by it. 

Images flashed through his brain of a time he believed he jumped in the water and was instead held in a strong pair of arms he wished to forget the touch of. He had to close back the dam while it was still functioning, and stayed underwater for long enough to feel the contrast between his frozen outer body and his burning lungs, begging him to let oxygen back in. 

He was only so powerless against his unwanted survival instincts, and stood back up, air rushing back in in an almost painful manner. 

He didn’t let himself linger on the feeling of his life slipping away from his grasp, and moved forward. He couldn’t do much but keep moving, always. The ground was only a few steps away.

Dripping wet but determined, he ran on the bridge as to get back undercover in the dark parts of town as soon as possible. The lightness he still felt when crossing it was slowly growing usual to him, even though he couldn’t comprehend it. He had spent years feeling uneasy on this part of the village, feeling deep in his bone he wasn’t welcomed here. What had changed? 

Maybe his unwillingness to submit to the higher powers had been punished all this time. Maybe only shells of human beings could feel belonging here. 

The town was eerie at night, shops looking like sad, empty faces when no light was there to bring life to them. The shadows were big, encompassing everything, and he wondered what time it must have been for the entire population to be asleep. Not even the wind picked up, unwilling to free the moon of its cloak of clouds. His skin prickled with the feeling of being in a ghost town, but he pushed on. 

The field of flowers wasn’t much better, with its narrow passages caging him in and his occasional ruffles of leaves, twitches of branches, howl of animals and creatures of nature. He felt out of place here, as if he was undeserving of the sweet air and the pure sights, still mesmerising in the depths of night.

It hit him as he passed them. The yellow flowers were right there, calling for him, telling him they were what he had been looking for. He immediately picked them, apologising profusely with each one as was the rule. He didn’t care much about respect anymore, but plants had never done anything to bring him sorrow, and he couldn’t hurt them without reason or acknowledging the life within them. 

He roamed around, lavenders being an easy find as per usual, but parsley taunting him without ever revealing itself. Louis’ entire body was covered in goosebumps, and a ray of sun hitting it made him jump. He looked up and saw the sky had cleared, sign of the impending morning. He didn’t have any more time to lose. 

It took him five more minutes. He tripped over a vine, face landing straight in parsley. It was an odd kind of push in the right direction from Fate, one he was only half thankful for when he took notice of the throbbing in his hands. 

He readjusted the thin tank top that was clinging to his body, hoping it hadn’t gotten ripped in the hassle as he couldn’t possibly afford a new one. 

It was a problem for another time, he was quick to realise, when he heard the metallic sound of a shop or the other. Without thinking, he bolted, ignoring the pain in his knees in hopes that he could reach the hotel before anyone noticed his disappearance. 

He narrowly avoided every onlooker and wanderer, refusing to leave even a trace of his presence in anyone’s mind. The way he climbed the stairs two by two, feet slippery and cramps developing in his legs muscles, was dangerous but necessary. He managed to reach the top landing without cracking his skull open, which he was still debating internally over the true best outcome. 

He jumped on his mattress, trembling from residual adrenaline and the cold that was now clinging to him. If anyone were to pay any attention to him, they would see his wet hair and the flowers he was holding tightly within his clutch.

People were barely waking up however, body used to the alarm that will soon ring in their quarters to get them all to breakfast. He controlled his breathing so he wouldn’t give himself away, and jumped out of bed when the bells rung ten seconds later. 

Surrounded by groans and bleary eyes, he managed to escape swiftly for the second time. He took the common staircase now, rushing to his destination. Eating hadn’t been on his mind in days, hunger was now a foreign concept, and he couldn’t care less about the mass of bodies walking towards the food court in more or less of a rush. 

He made the turn when it was needed, and banged on the door as soon as he reached the threshold. A bleary-eyed Liam greeted him once the door opened. This man was full of surprises. 

He really should have fallen for him. 

“Oh, Ashimo, hi,” he said in a gruff voice, visibly surprised. 

Louis muttered a greeting and rushed inside his room, not time for small talk. His time was counted, in more ways than one. 

“How do you get rid of bruises?” he asked, cutting straight to the point. He also dropped all he bore on the floor, sitting next to the miscellaneous pile. 

“Uh,” Liam let out. 

He was still standing next to the now closed door, uselessly staring at Louis. He urged him on, sorting the flowers in three different piles. He didn’t knew the details of the making, and he doubted Liam knew as well, but he had more experience as well as powers that had obviously been essential in the first version. 

When he was still sitting by himself minutes later, he assumed he would have to try and sort this out alone. He could, maybe. Stealing a book from Liam would help, and he would somehow get through it. He had survived so long with minimal help and maximal setbacks, he was stronger than this. 

He was still infinitely relieved when he saw Liam settle besides him, taking some of the flowers in his palms. 

“I can’t do much,” he immediately warned, but Louis was still so thankful for him he couldn’t bring himself to care. “But first, we’ll only need these two,” he said as he took the yellow flowers and parsley in hands, pushing them away from Louis. “Please bring me a bowl filled with water.”

Louis ran towards the bathroom, heart beating wildly in excitement. He was really doing this, ridding himself of the traces of the love affair that plagued his entire being. 

He was back on taking care of himself, not the only one who truly cared, but the only who could help. And knowing he could rely to some extent on Zayn, Niall, and even Liam it seemed, made it even easier to visualise his recovery. 

It took a long time and a lot of concentration on Liam’s part, Louis only able to observe wordlessly as he soaked the plants in the water and let his power run through the liquid. It was also clearly not his domain of expertise, though Louis still had no idea what his powers entailed, but he must have been doing something right as it started to thicken and resemble the one Louis had seen only a few days prior. 

“It’s not as powerful as what Harry could have made,” he stated as he wiped his hand on the cloth he wore as his bottom. Louis wondered how disrespectful it would appear if he grabbed the bowl and bolted. “It’s the best I could do - take it.”

“I,” Louis took it in his trembling hands, careful in a way he had never been. As foolish as it was, he felt as if this was the answer to all his problems. He stood and looked right at Liam’s kind but sorry eyes. Ignoring the pity there, he wrapped his arms around his chest precariously, careful of the object he held and the potential spills. It wasn’t proper in any way and probably perturbed Liam more than anything else, but soon his arms embraced him as well. “Thank you so much, I am forever grateful for all you have done.”

“It’s nothing,” Liam replies in his hair before he stepped back, not yet relenting his grip on Louis’ shoulder. “Ashimo, please believe me,” he said earnestly, and Louis thought he just might, “it will be okay. Everything will be sorted out.”

The few hours of sleep he had gotten, his empty stomach and all he had done instead of fulfilling his basic human needs suddenly took their toll on him in the downfall of adrenaline he experienced. He felt incredibly tired, and blamed his easy agreement on it. 

He left the room feeling fidgety. The second alarm that announced the end of breakfast sounded, and he found solace in the knowledge he only had to wait for the early afternoon until he could feel clean again. 

The next hours of work were mind numbing as he found himself in charge of cleaning the windows. He could feel himself sweating, the sun beating down strongly on his front and making him feel uncomfortably warm. He refused to rid of his shirt like Akako had done, couldn’t bear the thought of exposing the shame lining his body. 

It was enough of a struggle hours later, standing in the little bathing quarters and staring at all the undesirable angles in the mirror. 

The numerous colours weren’t unappealing to the eye, and Louis found himself pressing his fingers in a few bruises out of childish curiosity. He knew, in other circumstances, he wouldn’t only appreciate the lovebites but glorify them, admire them in every possible occasion as they would be the testimony of something stronger than words, bigger than himself. 

He pressed firmly and continuously on the one right above his hip. The pain was deep and scorching, unbearable. Still, he continued to apply pressure, even as tears sprouted in his eyes and the pain was so vicious it went up and squeezed his lungs, leaving him struggling to breathe. It was so deep, a bruise worthy of a god, one that would be incredibly difficult to relieve himself of. The god had settled so deep within him, there would always be residues of his passage. 

It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to be free. He took the cloth he had let soak in the mixture all morning in hand. It dripped on the counter rhythmically, sticky and heavy and smelling strongly of nothing particularly pleasant.

Hesitantly, he lifted his head and applied it on his collarbones, where small but significant marks were littered. His breath itched at the cold feeling, but he sucked it up and begun circular motions. 

He did so for a few minutes, the weird liquid spreading down his chest from where the excess left the cloth in thick dollops. The smell was intoxicating, and he was forced to pause so he would stop feeling so dizzy. 

When he lifted it, he saw the result - which consisted of no trace whatsoever. The hickey had completely been erased from his body, leaving shiny but appropriately pale skin. 

In his haste, Louis immediately went down and started applying it on every bruise he found. Then, the painful yet mindless work of scrubbing it so it would infiltrate deep inside his skin started. He did it, going on and on with no pause, relentless and forceful. 

He was scrubbing his skin so hard it was red and peeled off in some parts. Still, he kept rubbing, couldn’t stop now that he knew there was some effect. It hurt incredibly bad, yet didn’t come close to the ripping of his heart caused by every sight of those bruises on his body. He picked up the pace again, rubbing it in until he could feel the textile leaving genuine burn marks. It was oddly calming, a pain he could handle and knew had an actual aim.

Everything was endurable with a goal in mind. The worst suffering in the world was surmountable as long as there was a reward on the other side. It was how women went through the pain of giving birth, how humans kept going when life was giving hits after hits on their defenceless bodies, how Louis was planning on getting out of this god’s enticing yet terrifying grip.

He was brought to a stop by the alarm he had equally wished to blare in every street and to never hear again. Someone was coming, someone important. Louis couldn’t concentrate on it through the rush of blood in his ears, but his body was trained in a way that made following every task mindless. He didn’t have to think as he dropped all he was doing and walked to the hall, scratching at the fingertips still embedded in the skin of his hips. They were burning him just with the knowledge of their presence, and he wanted nothing more than to just abandon this entire useless envelop, the one that had done nothing but be a canvas to every hit he’s gotten, never truly protecting the life inside of it. It held now nothing but sorrow, and all the marks of moments he wished to forget were monstrous and indelible.

He was there in time to hear his name being called, and assumed his body let out some sort of agreement. He wasn’t there, couldn’t even concentrate to know which god was coming, but no one truly cared anyway. If he didn’t, no one would even try and pay attention to him.

He stared without focus, not registering any information being thrown at him. Life was going on around him, leaving him to stand and brace himself for the tides. If only the current could take him away. He assumed he wouldn’t even notice, his head completely empty, his slim consciousness hanging onto the skin he was slowly breaking with his nails. Maybe he could pour out of his body with the blood.

He let himself be brought back to reality when the crowd surrounding him dispersed. As far as his foggy brain could tell, he hadn’t been requested anywhere. As such, he begun walking off, rushing so he could complete what he had started. The urge was growing and worsening by the second.

As quickly as he had turned around and started scurrying away, someone was pulling him back. He was quite tired with all this manhandling and clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t hurt the person holding onto his top right now. With a growing apprehension and slow movements, he turned around.

“Hi lovely,” the god said with a smile that could have been genuine if he wasn’t so clear in the licking of his lips. Louis wondered what kind of twisted game this was. “How about you meet me in my room in an hour so we can… discuss some of our shared interests.”

The entire thing was said in a sultry voice, too familiar for his liking. He hated this, wished he could just go through with what he wanted and hit him where it would hurt him the most. He only wanted to run away and scrub his skin, until it was red and raw and burning and he finally felt sated. He didn’t want to feel desired or lusted after, he wanted to be alone.

To be as void on the outside as he was on the inside.

Only there was a tempest brewing inside of him. It wouldn’t be put out as easily as the more physical memories would, it would only strengthen until it spilled out of him. He was nothing but a time bomb.

“What shared interests?” he asked in a small voice.

He was giving in. Maybe he didn’t have to destroy the marks, maybe he just had to replace them. Just like he could replace the feelings of longing and betrayal with disgust for himself. Maybe the solution for Louis was never healing and only finding new sources of pain each time, get fully sucked in the vicious circle that had been offered to him from day one.

“I happen to like pretty things,” Appollo said as he took yet another step forward, his breath minty and blowing in Louis’ face, “and you happen to be a pretty thing. There’s plenty we could share from there, isn’t there?”

His warm hand laid over his neck, gentle but possessive grip. It was unfamiliar, but soft where it tangled in the strands of his hair and soothed the aching skin of his throat with slow motions. It also made Louis’ skin crawl, so uncomfortable and heavy and wrong he wished he could escape from it.

Instead, he lifted his head so he leant into the touch, his eyes in direct contact with Appollo’s, their lips a breath away. He didn’t have to appreciate it, it wasn’t the point. His own satisfaction had never been the interest of anyone, not even himself.

The only time he had allowed himself to be selfish…

The words formed in his brains, connection from years of experience producing a sentence that materialised his agreement, whether genuine or not. They went down, down, down, electric currents passing through synapses to urge his tongue to move, the air to escape his lungs, his vocal chords to activate, his lips to form the words.

It wasn’t his voice that said “Would you be so kind to move away from my mate?”, all rhetorical and angry.

His entire body was raked in chills. He closed his eyes, couldn’t believe he had reached the point of hallucinations, that his mind was turning against him so badly. He had tried his best – failed spectacularly, but he had never stopped trying to keep sane. This couldn’t be how it ended.

Only, the hand tightened and the body twisted, leaving another god well into view when Louis couldn’t stand the prickling in his eyeballs and opened his lids. How had he missed the smell of lavender filling the entire space?

“Harry,” Apollo tutted, condescending and amused. “Go find yourself another toy, you should have moved on from irrational childish envy a few millenniums ago don’t you think?”

Louis had noticed many fights in his lifetime here. Enemies weren’t rare in any world, and two meeting accidentally turned out to be an unfortunate yet inevitable event. He even broke out some of these fights, never leaving unscathed, but his own safety had always gone second to everyone else’s.

Never in his lifetime could he remember any creature looking as angry as the god who owned his heart did right then. Hatred was radiating off of him in such strong waves, he could hear people coming back to the room. This included Doctor Simon, obviously confused and concerned as to what exactly was going on.

Louis’ entire life was a spectacle he didn’t wish to partake in.

“Apollo,” he spat out his name, not bulging in the slightest but there was something powerful thrumming right underneath his skin, unstoppable and dangerous. “I will not repeat myself, so I would advise you to let him go before I hurt you so bad people will believe you to be Silenus.”

Louis wondered for a moment why use Silenus instead of Hephaestus, as someone who only had had the chance to meet the former and could only assume the god renowned for his unpleasant physique would have been a better choice. However, as Apollo suddenly removed his neck, he realised that more than a jab at his appearance, it was the comparison to someone of the likes of Dionysus that particularly unnerved him.

Gods were nothing but prideful idiots. Louis had no more time for this, and especially not for a certain British one. He marched right up to him, bypassing Apollo as if he had any right to, and stared with fury burning in his eyes right at the other god’s taken aback face.

“How very dare you,” he seethed out, sounding like a snake as air passed through his clench teeth to get the words out.

“Excuse me?” he asked, clearly dumbfounded. He was the biggest asshole Louis had ever met.

“You can not call me your mate whenever you see personal gain,” he took yet another step forward, pushing at his chest so the turmoil inside of him could escape in more ways than one, “only to disappear when I believe your words. Out of all the people I have ever met, the one I always trusted deep in my heart wouldn’t treat me like a toy was you, yet it’s all I ever was. Nothing but your fun little plaything, that you don’t want to share but don’t want to keep.” His cheeks were on fire, all body trembling from keeping in the tortured scream he wanted to let out so badly, but he was pretty sure tears would cool them down soon enough. Leave it to the worst being in any and all realms to be the only one to bring him to his knees and make him cry every single time.

“Stop saying that! I explained to you you were so much more than that, why can’t you just believe me?”

“You fucking left!” Louis screamed out before he could even hear the end of the god’s sentence. “Not for the first time, either. You just took my heart, my identity, my body, my entire life, and then left with it.” He swallowed hard, his breathing erratic but his voice steady as he said “You are the worst monster I have ever had the misfortune to meet, and if I had the choice I would have chosen death over meeting you.”

The silence surrounding them was heavy. He knew there were dozens of pairs of eyes looking at their every move, listening to each change in their breathing pattern. He knew he had just signed his death wish, but for the first time in so long, he felt calm.

He had just emptied himself completely, took the hatred lodged in his stomach, the very last of his fuel, in his trembling fingers and pulled it right out through his throat. He had slapped it in the god’s face, watched it leave a mark on his body, roll down his body, and drop on the ground in a loud noise so everyone would see it. Focus on it. Inspect it. Know all its intricate details.

It was oddly reminiscent of the moment they shared in the field of flowers, the very first time Louis was called his mate. How many more times could he run the same circle before breaking out of its infinite hold on him?

“I left you a lavender,” the god replied. As if that was an excuse, a justification, an explanation, a reason for any of this. As if Louis wasn’t wearing it right over the empty cage where his heart used to sit, as a sign of his ultimate weakness and shame. As if a lavender could replace all the things that were stolen from him. He opened his mouth to protest exactly that, but was cut off. “I left you a lavender as the promise of my return, the proof of my devotion. I left it there and made it so it would fade exactly on the day I would be back, because you wouldn’t need just one flower when I would be here to give you the entire world and some.”

Thoughts were swimming through his head so quickly that all he heard was white noise. He couldn’t focus on anything. He was still so mad and torn up, these scars so deep they would be impossible to close in the matter of three sentences. He was hopeful, seeing nothing but honesty in Harry’s eyes and wishing it wasn’t a trick of light or his own traitor of a brain. He was scared of giving in again. He was confused as to what this meant and whether he could believe anything he said or not.

It was all overpowered by the feel of Harry’s hand on his, gripping it firmly. He pulled it back immediately, burned by the sudden and unprompted touch, until he realised the reason why it had been initiated.

In his distress, he had gone back to picking at the bruises on his sides, right where shirt and shorts separated enough that he could easily access the offending skin. He didn’t let it phase him, and brought his hand up to take out the flower he held preciously in his pocket.

He was staring down at it, so tiny and old in his calloused hand, when he piped up again. “Why did you leave?”

It was still unexplained, and an obvious setback to Louis actually making a choice. He didn’t know if people were still there, if anyone was reacting, reaching out to him. He only wanted an explanation as to what was so important, he hadn’t even deserved a goodbye.

“The reason I came back here today, Louis,” Harry said in a whisper.

Louis’ head lifted incredibly fast, staring at him with scared eyes. He knew no one had heard him, but this wasn’t something to play with. He couldn’t just reveal his biggest secret just for the sake of reaching Louis.

He wasn’t done, however, and said in a louder voice “You are my mate, and I yours. It is not a title I give you or a stake I claim on you, but only an information I provide to the world so the correct adjustments could be made. I have always known it, and have waited for years to share it with not only you, but everyone else.”

His eyes were shining and never leaving Louis’, but his voice was confident and reached everyone’s ears. He may say it wasn’t a claim being staked, but it truly was. Louis could feel his heart beating faster, an organ he had ignored the existence of for the last weeks. His trembling hand was taken, and the stem he had tangled in his fingers was replaced by Harry’s.

“Simon-san,” Harry called in an authoritative voice, turning towards him. Louis could only stare at him however, look at the bright light accentuating each of his perfect features and wish this wasn’t a dream. “I carry with me a letter, written by my hand and signed by the King of the Gods of my realm, as well as the Queen of the Gods of Ashimo’s. It also contains his real name, one he knows of and is the reason he never abided by your rules.” He took Louis’ hand in his and looked back at him, as if asking permission to carry on. Louis squeezed it and nodded in one breath, not seeing how he could in any universe want to stop now. “Louis William Tomlinson is hereby free of his alias Ashimo and every obligation it tied him to.”

Simon was livid when he stomped towards them, ripping the letter from Harry’s grip. He was soon forced to admit his defeat, his posture visibly deflecting with each word his eyes fell upon. Louis couldn’t focus on it, not now that he had his full name.

Louis William Tomlinson. It held all the truths in the world, all the events that composed and built him. Everything was rushing back to him, too quick for him to understand any of it, only bribes hitting him and telling him bits and pieces about his life.

He had a family, a beautiful one. And Niall had been there as well, even when he was still a human roaming Earth. He could see faces he recognised yet didn’t know, feel without knowing the true reason of, relive moments he had never even imagined.

It had apparently been too much, as by the time he came back to himself, he was limp in Harry’s arms. He had blacked out at receiving so much in such a short amount of time. But, if anything in the world could extract him from his deepest slumber, it was the scent of lavender and the feel of Harry’s skin against his.

It also hit him then and there that they were mates. Through the loss of his identity, he had also lost the one who completed him, the other part of his soul. But now he knew, in a way that had always went unacknowledged by him in the past. It went from a belief, sometimes a dream, to an actual fact.

He couldn’t well resist surging up to kiss Harry at that.

He missed the first time, his lips landing on the side of his mouth. He gripped him hard between his hands and turned his face properly right after, guiding him so they could reacquaint themselves in what would be the most intimate way for now.

The calm and contentment that wrapped him up and infiltrated his insides to settle everywhere was proof enough that this was right where he was supposed to be – loving and being loved by Harry. It was only a press of lips, until one of them moved ever so slightly.

Every swipe of their lips against the other caused the brush of a butterfly’s wings against Louis’ inner stomach. The kiss was deep, full of reminiscence and discovery, of adoration and desire, of Louis and Harry. Their tongues touched, tentatively at first before caressing each other, and Louis knew he couldn’t ever leave this behind.

However, they were still surrounded and he couldn’t let himself go quite as much as he wished to. He was reminded of it when Harry pulled back, leaving him to whine before the noise around him rushed back to his ears.

People were talking, hushes as much as yells, and Louis let out a long breath. He turned his head, refusing to descend from Harry’s body even when he was hinted to with a pull to his shirt. He hadn’t realised he had climbed it and wrapped his legs around him any way, but he wasn’t one to complain now.

Besides them, Simon had resigned himself. He was signing, attesting to his agreement to give back full ownership of Louis’ persona to Louis himself. It made his heart flutter with joy, and laughter erupted from his mouth. He hid his face in the crook of Harry’s neck as his body trembled with his giggles, happiness so bright it blinded even him. Harry tightened his hold on him at the noise, and Louis distinctly heard him whisper 'Finally', so happy his skin glowed enough to be seen through closed eyelids.

It wasn’t until his feet went back on the ground so he could walk away with Harry that his bliss was cut short.

Here, in the mass of people who had more or less cared about him, stared his two best friends. The family he knew of through all these years, the ones who had been there for even longer than either of them could remember. The only reason he was even here to escape with his mate today.

He ran towards them, encircling them both in his arms and letting the three of them cry in each other’s shoulders. Niall kept muttering congratulations as well as words of happiness in his left ear, while Zayn reminded him that if Harry ever hurt him again like he had in the past, he would slaughter him, God or not.

Louis laughed, but it was sad and bittersweet. The idea of leaving them behind, to fend for themselves while he was enjoying what they had all wished for, was breaking his heart in thousands of pieces. Especially when their words were nothing but pure support, no trace of jealousy even in their tone or the deep of their eyes.

Their love was so selfless, and Louis couldn’t stand it.

Eventually, Harry came and stood by his side. He immediately noticed Louis’ deep turmoil, as well as the defensive stance of both the blonde boy and the hybrid when he approached him. He understood, and promised himself he would win them over some day.

Louis was his first priority however, as he reached down to his ear to ask what tormented him enough to make him hesitate and linger in the place that had brought nothing but pain in his life. One would argue Harry hadn’t done much better, but he realised this would be cause of many fights and the reason for many in-depth discussions with Louis. His actions of the past had deeply affected Louis’ current attitude as well as his self-esteem, but he counted on having the rest of eternity with him to sort it out and make him the happiest he could.

“I can’t leave them behind,” Louis finally replied, clearly torn. “They’re so important to me, I can’t do that. I wouldn’t be here without them today. They were there-” he cut himself off abruptly, before deciding against it and adding “they were there when you weren’t.”

It was a hard jab, but a deserved one. Harry took a deep breath and made a quick decision, one that should have been obvious forever but only now appeared to him.

“We will come back Louis, and this will be yours.” He encased Louis’ face with his hands, bringing their gazes together to showcase his honesty and earnestness at giving Louis everything he could ever want. “You will be the best ruler ever, and we will let your friends have a shot at a life far from these shackles. But, you have to give us time to work it through, alright, darling?”

Louis nodded, somehow falling even more in love with the god in front of him.

He would leave with his hand in his, let himself discover and settle in a life he had no idea of. He would enjoy Harry’s presence, rejoice in his love, while still making him redeem himself for all the sufferings he had casted on Louis. He would work on himself, on their relationship, on the new role he would get as the partner in life of a powerful god.

Then, he would come back here, and rid this place of Simon and the old, harmful ways of the resort. He would give back freedom to the people, and treat them with the respect they deserved and that he wished he’d received without having to destroy himself first. He would make this a safe place for gods, spirits, demons, fairies, nymps, mermaids, animals, humans, every creature who stepped foot to work or escape from work here. He would let Zayn fly as free as he wants, with no limits whatsoever, and let Niall remember all the memories they shared from before this lifetime they had both forgotten. He would let them realise the heroes they truly are, and chose their destiny for once.

And he already knew the name he would give it when the time came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (fun but random fact: my lockscreen was spirited away for the last two months and, unaware, my friend changed it to a picture of her face the exact day i finished writing this. think it's a sign it's time for me to move on boys)  
So. That's over. I think I'm quite proud of it? Who knows. I'm gonna celebrate the end of months of work by finally watching Your Name  
Anywayyy this is not the last of me you’ll see, I currently have over 50 fic ideas in my folder, including 16 drafts laying around and waiting for me to complete them. And I also have to offer the second part to Deflower Me before one of you finds my address and kills me in my sleep. All of that to say there’s a LOT that can happen and it’s just a matter of me finding the time to write these, but if you want to be warned of any upcoming story you can always subscribe to my AO3 account or [ follow me on tumblr ](https://quelquesetoiles.tumblr.com) (where you can also reblog [ the fic post](https://quelquesetoiles.tumblr.com/post/187579506837/latibule-louis-had-worked-in-the-infamous-resort) if you feel so inclined to)  
I would also like to thank alarriefantasy for being an absolute sweetheart and bringing attention to both of my stories, like damn people really be like that out of the goodness of their heart? Who would've thought (and to whoknows for bookmarking this?? If you’re reading this, hi, I am very intimidated) (and just thank you to everyone else who commented, kudoed, bookmarked, or even just read this, you’re lovely people and I wish you a very happy end of 2019)  
Hope you enjoyed this! xx
> 
> (also this may have a part 2 of sorts because I love these characters and find it interesting to either explore their relationship in the past or in the future, but as it is not needed I’m not making any promises yet - we’ll see where the wind guides us)


	8. Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations to bkiana on her B+ ! As a gift, here's a chapter with Harry's point of view on their relationship (it's short and not as good as the rest of the story but it was a deleted scene for a reason okay? hope you'll like it either way!)

The universe was a nice place. It wasn’t void of evil, some places filled with it to their core, but balance was needed in all things in life. Life itself was such a precarious thing, a combinaison of things that aligned just right to bring their world the way it was, flaw-filled yet perfect.

As such, it was unfair and arbitrary. Still, it had a lot more than dirt and dark souls to provide to its inhabitants. Each realm held treasures within them, unique and breathtaking and enough to overthrow the hopelessness that could fill the hearts of the weaker ones in dark times.

Living as a God was definitely a privileged position. Harry’s knowledge of it didn’t prevent it from happening, nor he from enjoying what was provided to him. He hadn’t chosen his position, it had been nothing but Fate giving him the life she believed was suited for him. Guilt couldn’t penetrate his thick skin, even when faced with the misery of his people.

With time, however, it lost its charm. Harry had seen it all, been everywhere multiple times, done condemnable things and paid the price only one third of the time. He had existed for millenniums at this point. He hadn’t felt surprise in a long time.

Easy access to each of his demand dulled the pleasure he once felt. He still lived as he wished, acquiring things on a whim and causing most creature he encountered to, if not kneel before him, at least bow their head in respect. It just took more than it used to for boredom not to take over his mind in most situations.

The only place he still truly enjoyed was his very own garden, where he could feel every plant thrumming through his vein, could create and modify and fully embrace the only part of him that still fulfilled him. He felt valued as more than just a status here. His image, name, appearance, past, none of it mattered there. His essence was what brought all these beautiful creations, essential to the physical and emotional needs of most other creatures. He was their creator, and felt comfort in their complete acceptance of him, the way they surrounded him and gave him a coccoon to fall back into and never question the loyalty of, the purity and selflessness in these actions.

He had named it Latibule – the only place in every realm, each small crevice and huge open space, old buildings and extravagant habitations alike, that had ever felt like home.

It didn’t bring the pleasure other parts of his life did, such as the one linked to his ability as the God of fertility. It brought him much more – calm, and a sense of belonging.

However, it turned out that no matter the position in the cosmos’ pyramid, the power or the age, everyone could kill themselves at work.

Harry hadn’t realised it. He had been doing his job, and then some more. Sprouting colors from the ground and the tall trees, in every place that accomoddated his art. He had brought the animals where he needed them as his tiny workers – his busy bees, as he liked to call them when no one could hear him – and gave life back to nature. He had done more, better, gone above and beyond in a way that hadn’t happened since his very early years, when everything was new and he couldn’t seem to do enough of all the power handed to him.

Somewhere alogn the way, he forgot he was giving life, and nothiing could be provided to one without taking from another. He was meant to recharge quicker than any other organism could, a way to never exhaust himself yet keep serving his people. Limits existed everywhere however, and it didn’t exclude him and his energy.

A worried Liam forced a visit on him, demanding answers as to where Harry had disappeared for the last month. It didn’t take more than seeing the God that had visibly drained himself and was on the brink of collapse for Liam to understand however.

Harry threw a terrible fit, sprouting vicious vines and carnivorous plants all around Liam at the worst of their fight. He was absolutely fine and did not help from anyone, especially not the God of Protection and Health. He was fully capable of handling himself, had done it long before he had met Liam and would do it long after the impending end of their friendship.

The tremble of the world around them was entirely due to the deep connection Harry’s soul had with this environment. They were but an extension of his being, little pieces of him he left scattered around the worlds for others to enjoy in the ways they saw fit. The earth and the wind, though not controlled by him, bent to his anger and cracked and whipped around him, a fuel he sucked in. He was unstoppable.

Or, he appeared to be, until he saw the grass burying itself in the ground under him and his precious flowers wilting, losings their petals at a rate that was abnormal and unprecented. He looked everywhere as his careful work crumbled down, his entire world falling apart piece by piece.

Cold dread spread in his chest, soon replaced by anguish. Seeing what he dedicated his life to, get destroyed by nothing but himself let his true feelings seep inside his mind and down each of his nerves – the exhaustion he had brought upon himself, caused by the utter unsatisfaction he felt plaguing his existence more with each day passing, and the fragility of his physical and spiritual self.

Liam, because he was the kindest God in every system across the entire universe, let Harry break down on his shoulder. A mere cracked shell of the God he once was, he finally allowed his vulnerability to show. He hadn’t been okay in a long time, and though he didn’t know exactly what awaited him in this recovery – if he could even wish for such a thing – he trusted in Liam, more than he did in himself right now.

Liam hadn’t been the only one to be worried for Harry. Though worshipped, he wasn’t quite well-liked by most powerful beings. He was seen as arrogant yet useless, the spirits of nature rarely valued when faced with the ones of intelligence and power. Harry made it his mission to appear even worse on these occasions, just to enrage the ones who seemed to forget the universe was a carefully crafted system in which every piece was of essential value for all the others’ existence.

His numerous affairs hadn’t worked in his favour either. Whether it was for his lack of discrimination in the choice of his partners, for the few who had been bethroted unbeknownst to him when he had lain with them, or for their sheer amount, most people found something worth commenting about in these cases.

His mother had chosen a new angle of attack for the last few centuries, bringing Harry to frustration more often than not. She found it deplorable that the God of Fertility wouldn’t have found his mate by now. Harry had tried to dodge this argument by claiming he might not have one, as mates weren’t the norm and he would have definitely found his by now if she had existed. It was a stretch considering his position, would be quite the irony from Fate if he was destined to live the rest of eternity fooling around, never finding his other half, the one who would bear his children. It wouldn’t be unheard of, however, as Fate liked to play with her subjects, though never with ill-intentions.

Despite this incoherence, it could have worked. Only, there isn’t much to do in terms of fooling the Goddess of Love when talking about this exact subject. She told him she could feel he was an uncomplete soul, and though she didn’t know who his other half was, she could tell they were an unconventional one, and Harry would be devoted to them the minute he saw them.

This exact woman was the most worried out of all the people who payed him a visit the next day. She immediately stated how dire it was for Harry to meet his soulmate now, as she claimed this slow deterioration was only due to the distance between them. Harry, tried as he might, snapped at her. Out of every moment of his life, this really wasn’t the one to make about a mate his chance of meeting was dwindling with each day passing.

Liam had taken over the reins and found another solution. He said all overworked Gods went to the same place, one made solely to take care of them in every way they needed. Harry had heard of this place, though had never taken the time to go there – contrary to Liam, who seemed set on selling this trip to him. He wore him down with promises of cleanses and no responsibility and all his desires being satisfied. Though, if Harry were to be honest with himself, he would admit he would have given in no matter what. It was either this resort, or continuing to pretend he was okay until he died a pitiful death.

The island in itself was nice. Harry had to appreciate its more rustic style, letting nature have the space it wanted and needed in middle of the buildings, flowers blooming and river flowing. It was good for his health, being surrounded by their energy. Flowers leant towards him like sunflowers in the sun, and he felt at peace just after three steps. Liam noticed it, judging by the smile he sported.

The man in charge of the hotel wasn’t quite a sympathetic one, even with his clear display of reverence towards them and how accomodating he appeared. Harry didn’t pay much mind to it, taking to observing the hall. Every worker he assumed were standing there waiting for instructions, creatures of all kinds and sizes. He tried to ignore them, feeling uneasy with all their eyes on them in a way he never had in the past. He basked in attention, drew eyes to himself everywhere he went and loved it. Yet, there was something about them… He distracted himself by admiring all the intricate woodwork and the colorscheme. It reminded him a lot of a place called Japan, which he was quite fond with for it was so beautiful in spring and they treated his work with respect. Their gods were a bunch that varied in appreciability, but they were all respectful to a fault which ranked them pretty high in the Good Gods scale.

Harry followed Liam like a child, looking everywhere in curiosity and letting himself be guided through the corridors. They were on the highest floor, some sort of privilege that stemmed from their status and wealth.

When they finally reached his room, his friend opened the door and stepped in first. Harry was rooted at the doorstep, frozen in awe. Liam chuckled.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said proudly, looking at the walls and the decorations. “At first I was a bit skeptical of all the white, but if there’s one thing we can’t take away from the Greeks it’s their architecture and art.”

Harry doubted a Greek God had made the masterpiece he was currently looking at, as they would never have let it slip away from their fingers to end in any place other than the Mount Olympus. How could he take note of anything that composed the room when the most beautiful creature he had ever encountered was standing plastered to the wall, looking at him with the same awestruck expression on his face.

As he stared at the delicate lines of his face, round and sharp at the same time, his mesmerising blue eyes hidden only slightly by a soft fringe, cheekbones dusted in red and pink lips just slightly opened, something thrummed in his veins. He wanted to pin this boy to a wall, merge their bodies until they were one and the same, and try for the rest of eternity to make him bear his children. He had never felt such intense and immediate attraction to anyone, had never felt overrulen by the God of Fertility side of his personnality in the past. His whole world was reduced to the small being staring at him, and he wanted to keep him by his side for the rest of forever.

A slap on his back on Liam’s way out got him out of his stupor, and he ran to the adjacent bathroom with flaming cheeks as he realised how out of control he had been made to be. _What the hell just happened_, he asked himself just to ignore the pleas from his heart to go and claim his mate.

“Do you need help, deus?”

He turned around abruptly, completely taken aback. The boy shivered under his gaze, and Harry’s thoughts ran wild again. He could see him shifting, clearly unsure if his enquiry was improper and if an apology was needed. Harry couldn’t reassure him when all his energy was centred on preventing himself from taking him in his arms and keeping him right over his heart forever.

His white uniform was just tight enough to let everyone notice the slight pudge of his stomach, the curve of his full hips, the plumpness of his round ass. Harry was losing his mind over them, as unhelpful thoughts of gripping, biting, pounding circled his mind. He wanted to be gentle, to cherish, to deify this human – and he wanted to ravish, to mark, to destroy so no one could look at this angel without thinking of Harry, knowing he was the only one allowed to adore him this way. There was something about his aura, and Harry knew everyone fell in love with this boy. He just had to be the one he fell for in return.

Tingles in his right hand brought his gaze down, and he saw a lavender had been growing from the palm of his hand. His eyes widened in shock, as that had never happened. To give life, he needed a source, earth or water. He had never been able to use his powers without aid, energy from another type. Yet, here he was, flower dripping from his skin, out of his control.

“Uh,” he replied eloquently, still out of his depth on what was happening to him.

He brought his other hand to the flower, and as soon as he touched the stem, it broke from his body. He looked at it, beautiful and bright, and wanted to give it to the boy. Tell him it was one of the most beautiful creation he had ever made, perfect in a way he could never achieve, and it was still nothing compared to him. Tell him he strived all his life to produce something that brought half as much joy as he did just being looked at, and he now knew it could never exist twice but he would chose him over every plant in the world if asked to.

“I’m fine,” he finished, and put the flower down on the marble counter next to him hastily. He looked up, and the boy’s eyes were trained on it. “Thank you for, uh, checking? I’m fine. I’ll just,” he let it hang in the air, struggling until he gave up and walked out.

Once in the room, he turned around. He wanted to ask the boy what he was called, as his heart was feeling unsatisfied with the lack of a name to put on his mate’s face.

He lost his words however, when he saw him pick the flower he had left laying there with a delicacy he only rarely saw. He craddled it as if it could break from the slightest breeze and looked at it with admiration in his eyes. Harry wanted to make him feel at awe like this every day for the rest of eternity.

Instead, he turned around with a bright grin, safe in the knowledge his soulmate shared his affection. Unknown to him, the lavender was a promise of devotion he had made to him, and its acceptance was as much of a promise in return.

In a way reason couldn’t comprehend yet the heart felt, they were now linked forever, and would only achieve happiness once united. And they were ready to make it happen in time – their souls fizzling with impatience to meet again, their hearts beating the same rhythm, their bodies magnets to each other. Heart, body and soul. All there was left was for their mind to accept each other as mates, and they would be whole again.

If only Fate was that nice and life that simple.

Days passed in red cheeks and longing stares from both parties, and Harry somehow got better in between the moments of pining against the boy that was always there to meet his demands. _Ashimo_, had he replied when asked what his name was, though Harry knew he was lying. He tried not to think about why he knew such a thing, but ignoring the truth didn’t alter its existence.

His smiles were breathtaking, his voice was pure music, and when his personality managed to shine through the cracks of the mask of professionalism he sported, Harry felt the need to peel each layer that made him who he was until he could observe the purest soul he knew laid in there. It was all too much and taking control of his brain, making him unable to stop his thoughts.

They left, Harry’s heart sitting proudly in Ashimo’s tiny hands to be cradled preciously and cared for like it had never been. When they came back, Anne waiting patiently for their return, she immediately sensed it and broke into a grin.

“You found them, didn’t you?” she asked, though she already knew the answers.

Harry felt like he carried the weight of the world when he replied “I did, but he didn’t find me.”

For years afterwards, Harry tried his best to stay away from the boy, and yet always found himself going back to the hotel. The first few times, he felt this pull towards Ashimo, couldn’t resist his unknowing enticingness and the mutual attraction between them. He was a star and Harry was nothing but a speck of dust that had fallen into his orbit.

But he was also a man, and though Harry had been with many in his existence, a human male wasn’t fit to bear his offsprings. That is where Fate had played him the most. He was also a human, and though aware of Gods’ existence, his lifespan was limited and he wasn’t fit for him. It was the harsh reality of the clash of worlds. He couldn’t lay his entire being, give his whole life to someone who wasn’t made to handle it. He couldn’t be so vulnerable and strip his soul bare for another that wouldn’t even be here for a thousandth of his lifetime. This relationship was set for destruction before it had even started.

But, Ashimo was undeniably his mate. He had awaken feelings in Harry that he hadn’t felt in so long, if ever. He was in his mind all day, inked on his skin, infiltrated in his veins, colouring his flowers blue and, when revealed to be a reminder of lavender to him, making his entire field only them. Each day far from him made him long for his blue eyes to see deep inside his soul, see the place that was fitted just for him there, made him fall for him. And each day he gave in and saw him, he couldn’t help but admire all that made him so unique and exceptional and fall even more in love for the human.

He was doomed, and hurting the both of them. He wanted nothing more than to give in this growing need to live for Ashimo and Ashimo only, and slowly ripping his nails off his fingers would hurt less than walking away from his Fate-chosen one. The bruises on Ashimo’s body, the circles under his neck, and his hardening exterior were all proofs he was enduring much worse. And Harry was at fault for letting the love of his life in a place that was torturing him when he could get him out of it.

But if Harry only hurt him through lack of action, maybe he would manage to feel deserving of his love. As months grew into years, Harry seeked contact between them more. He played with the human’s beliefs, not denying the claims of Harry bedding other partners, only to see his care through his demeanor – that had grown cold and tough as his body changed from dainty to strong. Jealousy was an ugly thing, but Ashimo made it look so lovely. He seeked his attention, proofs of a love he could only hope was reciprocated half as hard as his was felt, and he didn’t even realise until one night he promised to take Ashimo away.

It had been impulsive, his inhibitions rarely controled when faced with the human. However, once the opportunity was there, he truly planned on going through with it. He had denied it happening in hopes it would go away with time, but his devotion for Ashimo was stronger than himself and he was nothing but a god ready to kneel in front of a human and worship the ground he walked on.

As midnight approached, he made Liam and Leigh-Anne aware of his plans. The Goddess of Sciences was the most rational out of the three, Liam and Harry getting swept away in the excitement of finally accepting Fate’s work and getting things where they should be. She reminded them that Ashimo belonged to Simon and couldn’t be taken away like this, as every King and Queen of Gods would refuse such an alliance. He would face judgement and accusations of witchcraft in order to get the god to believe them to be mates. He would suffer greatly, more than he could staying here, if they didn’t make sure he wouldn’t face any backlash from anyone that could then get him banned from every world, letting him roam around with no place to hide in until someone malevolent took him as their new toy.

It was a cold shower, but a needed one. Harry still wanted to make them leave together, self-confident to a fault and truly believing he could protect him from everything. They were made for each other, no way would anyone manage to get in the way of the reunion of two lovers whose intertwined destiny was written in the stars.

He did give in when faced with all the facts. This would be dangerous for the human, and Harry’s needs had shifted with time from his own desires to Ashimo’s happiness. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he stopped being selfish to instead wanting to give his life away if it was what Ashimo asked of him, but he figured it was always meant to be this way. Ashimo deserved no place lower than the most important and valuable in Harry’s life.

As only the three of them boarded on the boat, Harry stared at the place that housed his heart, his oxygen, his soul, his latibule, being reduced to a point in the horizon. He sent a promise in the night, to himself and Ashimo and the people who made their paths cross only to put spaces between them right after.

He wasn’t giving up. Research and bargain was awaiting him, restless nights just to get every answer he needed. But he would go to the end of the Earth and then further, down to the flaming center of Hell and up to the brightest Heaven’s if needed be. He would keep going until he knew how to give Ashimo the right to leave this awful place and come with him instead, so they could live together somewhere that respected them both and their precious love.

And the rest of the world will know Ashimo is his mate, the love of his life, his latibule, and the bearer of the British God of Fertility and Flowers’ children.


End file.
